Leave me: a Severus and Edward friendship story
by bumblebee88888
Summary: Brother story to 'A life worth living'. On the night of Lily's death, Edward and Severus meet. 14 years later they meet again during Harry's 5th year. See how the Cullens' presence affects Severus and alters the future of the Wizarding World. Severus' POV. NOT slash. Canon compatible. WIP. Please read and review :)
1. Introduction

**Introduction to a Harry Potter and Twilight Saga cross-over fanfiction**

**By bumblebee88888**

'A life worth living' (Edward's POV + input from other Cullens/Jake)

'Leave me' (Severus' POV + input from other HP characters)

Thank you for clicking on my cross-over story! I so appreciate your interest in my writing and I hope you enjoy reading this brief introduction.

**_Important_**_**information**__:_

DISCLAIMER: the characters in both of these stories are NOT of my creation; they are the imaginings of the wonderful JK Rowling and Stephenie Meyer. I am merely playing around with both of these worlds and forcing these amazing literary characters to meet!

COPYRIGHT of other fan fictions: Just for the record, I have only read one cross-over story in my life. The author of that particular story is aware that I am writing my own cross-over, and I have assured her (honestly) that my story will be very different from hers. I imagine that the plot line I outline below may be quite a common one out there, but if this is the case, I have NOT read any such stories. Therefore, these ideas are entirely my own, and copyright of fellow authors was not in any way intended.

As underlined above, there are **two** stories that will come out of this cross-over: one from Edward's perspective and one from Severus'. However, there are times (especially towards the beginning of the story) where other characters may need their POV told for various reasons. However, once the story 'gets going' it will be an Edward/Severus fic. Therefore, the same story will be told from these two points of view (with brief inputs from other characters). For those who are concerned that they will be almost identical retellings, do not fear; they will be very different. As such, they will be posted as two separate stories, but as I say, they will revolve around the same plotline.

Having said the above, please note that this story is still a work in progress. I have not written ANY of the chapters for either of these stories. But rest assured that ideas, dialogue and plot twists are constantly on my mind! Therefore, updates will **not** occur consistently, but I promise to update whenever I have the next chapter ready to post; I will not hold out on you!

There are aspects of this story (especially at the beginning) that cover quite a serious topic. I will mention it again when I get to that part of my story, but I wish to say from the outset that in no way do I endorse the behaviour that I 'make' these characters do (or try to do) in my story.

Finally, I am a writer who loves to create plotlines compatible with canon. This means that, where possible, the events in canon will remain the same in my stories. However, given the context of this fanfic, I am hoping you will understand why I will need to make some substantial alterations to some aspects of the plot line. You will get an idea of _how _big these changes will be right now :)

**Introduction**

Anyone wishing to understand this cross-over story needs to read this introduction (to understand alterations I will be making to the canon timeline), and also have quite a firm knowledge of both the Harry Potter and Twilight worlds. But even if you don't, I hope it will still be an interesting story for you to read!

Anyway, this introduction will set the scene for the beginning of 'A life worth living' and 'Leave me'. Please note that I will update each story alternating (unless I am inspired to continue writing from one character's perspective for a while. If this is the case, you will find out on my facebook page: #!/Bumblebee5n4p3 Please 'like' this page if you haven't already :D. Also, I will post up 'teasers' for the upcoming chapters on this page once I have written them :)

While this prologue will provide you with a rough idea of what to expect, I hope you can appreciate that I may add or change various aspects in future chapters. If this happens, I will be sure to let you know on facebook and in my author's notes J

Happy reading, I can't wait to hear what you guys think of my cross-over idea!

31st October, 1981

By 5pm, the Cullens had loaded their luggage into their cars (the rest of their belongings were already on the freight ship to Washington), and had farewelled their England home, where they had lived for the past ten years. They were moving back to their home in Forks which they haven't visited for multiple decades to ensure that anyone who would recognise them was now deceased. With a few hours to kill before they were due to catch their plane to the USA, and having hunted that morning, the Cullens decided to explore the dark lit streets in the hope of finding some amusement, perhaps some children dressed up as vampires for Halloween.

Together they ran quite a distance until they found a place that appeared lively with trick-or-treaters: 'Godric's Hollow'. Having never heard of the place, the Cullens decided to explore it, making an effort not to be seen. However, what they thought were children partaking in Halloween, were actually full-grown men and women wearing elaborate robes as they celebrated on the streets.

Was the tradition in this small town different from the others with regard to Halloween? The Cullens turned to Edward to see if he had gathered from the thoughts of those around them, what they were celebrating so passionately. Immediately Edward was able to provide them with an answer; their enthusiastic thoughts were crowding his mind, he could barely concentrate.

Hiding behind a house in the darkness, Edward whispered under his breath:

"A man who they identify as someone who 'Must not be named' has died- killed in a confrontation with a- with an infant…" Edward trailed off wondering if what he heard was even possible.

"My goodness, is the child alright?" Esme asked, her voice high with worry.

Edward paused for a moment listening to the thoughts around him, searching for an answer; surely one of them would know?

"Yes," he was finally able to report. "He is alive." Following this, Edward listened intently, his eyebrows knit together in concentration as he tried to make sense of the new information he was receiving from a short, portly man about fifty feet away.

"This man's death is incredibly mysterious," Edward pondered aloud, unable to determine anything beyond that so far.

"How do you mean?" Jasper asked, not able to sense any trepidation amongst any of the humans in the vicinity.

"No one is quite sure how he died," Edward clarified in a mysterious whisper, "only that he meant to kill the child but failed to do so… _he_ perished instead."

"Is that even possible?" Carlisle queried, and then remained silent for a moment to contemplate how a human could try to kill a baby, and for it to then go so horribly wrong.

"_Why_ did he want to kill a harmless infant?" Carlisle demanded, outraged that someone would attempt to take the life of an innocent child.

"I suppose there is a chance he _wasn't _harmless," Emmett contributed, though the broad smile on his face told his family he was only joking. Nevertheless, they couldn't help but take him seriously; it was the only plausible explanation.

Considering that no one around them seemed tended towards killing the child themselves, it seemed unlikely the boy was a danger to anyone, and indeed, what could an infant do to endanger the life of a full-grown man? Yet the attire of the celebrating adults around them, and the mysterious question of _how _an attempt at murder could _literally_ backfire, left the Cullens feeling like they were missing some important information.

From what began as a curious and brief stroll through Godric's Hollow became an extensive exploration of the town to see what further information they could find. Despite walking in the light of the streetlamps, no one seemed to pay them any notice; these humans were so exuberant- so thrilled to be free of this 'Dark Lord' that they paid no attention to the seven gorgeous 'humans' who walked in their midst.

Edward, who was leading his family down the street, suddenly came to a halt, his eyes captivated by a series of multicoloured lights which shone brightly ahead of him in the absence of any bulbs or electricity. Walking slowly forward, Edward eventually laid eyes on what, or rather who, was creating the mysterious lights.

He stared in awe at the wooden 'sticks' being held by four robe-clad humans, two men and two women, who were chanting a spell that caused red, green, blue, and purple lights to swirl artistically up into the sky.

_Witches and Wizards… performing magic with their wands, _Edward informed himself slowly as he forced himself to accept the evident reality that magic-wielding humans exist. Although this realisation was difficult to believe, in that moment, everything fit together perfectly; all of these people were wizards and witches. This man whose death everyone was celebrating must have tried to kill the infant with some form of Dark _Magic_. Of course, the underlying question of 'why' was still to be determined.

Edward communicated this shocking discovery to his family, and received alarmed glares from each of them; they had no idea that magical humans existed, let alone so close to where they had lived for the past ten years. Yet, it was quite clear that the bright streams of light were indeed exploding out of _wands_ left, right and centre as these witches and wizards lit up the sky with a brilliant display of fireworks.

Shortly after, a resounding cheer of: "To Harry Potter, the boy who lived!" filled the small town, and the Cullens assumed that Harry Potter was the young child now famous for somehow causing the death of 'He who must not be named'.

Deciding that it would not be wise to stay in Godric's Hollow much longer (even though Edward had not picked up on anyone who recognised them as being 'abnormal') the Cullens inconspicuously ran back to their cars. Having piled into the Volvo and Mercedes, which would come with them via ship to the United States (their other vehicles were already waiting for them in Forks), the family of vampires discussed the events they witnessed in Godric's Hollow on the way to the airport. Various questions regarding whether the Volturi knew of this magical human community, the size of the wizarding population, and pondering over what _else_ they could do with their wands other than make fireworks and kill one another, were all hot topics of conversation in both cars.

Edward, who was leading the convoy towards the airport in his Volvo with Alice and Jasper, unexpectedly turned off the main road. Confused by this detour, Carlisle decided to follow his son; it was imperative that they stay together. After driving two hundred metres down a dark suburban street, Edward pulled up in a dingy backstreet. Jasper and Alice exited the car behind Edward, none of them speaking to one another as if this unexplained stop, when their plane was due to leave in three hours, was perfectly understandable. However, to the occupants of the other car, their behaviour was extremely strange. It took a second for Rosalie, Emmett, Carlisle and Esme to be by their side, all of them looking quizzically at the other three of their coven.

Considering the sound of incoherent drunken drawling and the stench of stale alcohol, it was no surprise to any of them that at the end of the alley was a pub.

"Where are we?" Rosalie asked, her nose scrunched up in disgust at being in such a poor, rough area of England.

"Spinner's End," Emmett informed her, having managed to see the sign when Carlisle quickly turned off the road in pursuit of his son.

Rosalie snorted. "Yeah, tell me about it. Edward, what are we doing here?" she demanded in a hiss.

But Edward, Jasper, and Alice continued to remain silent, stiff and frozen. It took the others barely a second to understand that _someone_ was affecting their family member's gifts. So they waited until one of them were able to explain what was happening.

But they didn't.

In the blink of an eye, Edward ran to the end of the alley and turned right. Immediately on his left was the pub they all knew existed even though they hadn't seen it. Jasper looked pained, but didn't make to stop his brother from whatever he planned on doing. Alice was still frozen, her gaze miles away as she focused on the future.

Carlisle struggled with himself, unsure what Edward was doing and why. Although he trusted his son would ensure his true essence remained unknown to any humans he came in contact with, Carlisle's fears got the best of him, so he and Esme walked casually towards the pub, leaving Rosalie and Emmett to watch over their brother and sister, who were monitoring the consequences of Edward's every action. They had to wait a full hour before they saw their brother again.

This was the worst day of his life. Severus Snape was barely functioning; Lily Potter was murdered by the Dark Lord two hours ago. He did not deserve to live when he was responsible for the death of someone so _good. _The Wizarding World was celebrating, _none _of them gave a shit about the fact that the Potters were dead or that their son was left orphaned. In one go, Severus swallowed his seventh whiskey appreciating the numbing effect the alcohol was having on him. Everything hurt- his mind, his limbs, it was hard to breathe, and his heart was torn into shreds. He was too traumatised to cry or even scream; he was a frozen statue of torture. Severus was certain he could never escape such pain; he could never forgive himself for what he had done.

Lily was lost forever.

Shortly after this, a tall, handsome boy walked into the pub. Severus found it obsurd that someone like this kid was allowed into such a place, or indeed, was present in Spinner's End. His shocking bronze hair was almost offensive to his eyes, and so he turned his back on the boy, and tried to ignore him.

But he couldn't…

The consequences of the conversation that followed between this boy and Severus altered the future in such a complex way that not even Alice could fully comprehend it...

On the way to the airport, Edward, Alice and Jasper explained to those occupying the Mercedes what happened from the moment they drove into Spinner's End, to the moment they left. Despite the detour, the Cullens still boarded their plane on time, and left England for the United States as planned. While they had physically left Severus, the memory of him and the 'Boy who lived' never left their minds. While impossible for all of them to truly forget, Edward, Alice, and Jasper's thoughts continued to drift back to Severus as they began the next stage of their existence back in Forks.

Years 1981- 1995

During the next fourteen years, the events that take place in the Harry Potter world remain exactly as outlined in canon. While Severus never forgot the strange appearance of the tall, bronze-haired boy in the pub, he pushed it out of his mind; he had no time to think of it once he swore his allegiance to Albus Dumbledore.

Similarly, the Cullens never forgot Severus, but continued their lives as if they had never met him; he was not their concern now. Although Alice tried to search for his future, she was strangely unsuccessful. Even though she had never met the man, having seen his future previously, she thought finding him again would not be difficult. Ultimately, she gave up, knowing that no matter what she saw, there was nothing they could do about it anyway. Edward had done all he could do; they needed to move on…

While the events from the Harry Potter verse remain exactly as per canon (unless stated otherwise), the Twilight world has been altered slightly: during these 14 years (between 1981 and 1995), Edward and his family live in Forks. After the first three of these years, Bella Swan arrives to live with her father. She and Edward meet in the school year starting in September 1984. The events as per the Twilight Saga occur from _this_ point in time which is quite a few years earlier than they do in the books.

This means that at the beginning of 1995, Harry Potter will be turning 15 years of age, Bella Swan is now Mrs Cullen (a vampire, naturally), and she and Edward have been married for 8 years. Renesmee is chronologically 8 years of age, and was recently married to Jacob Black. They do not have any children (in case you were wondering).

Having been in Forks for 14 years, the Cullens decide it is time for them to move before anyone became dangerously suspicious of their infinite youth. Although a great sacrifice for him to leave his father and his pack, Jacob is prepared to go with the Cullens to wherever they decide to live as along as he can eventually live alone with Renesmee as husband and wife.

Just like Forks, The Cullens wanted to live in a similarly overcast town where they could walk outside during the day on most days. So, the Cullens began to brainstorm previous locations they have lived that might be suitable. One night, Edward, Bella (who had recently been told about the events at Godric's Hollow and Severus in lieu of their impending move), Jasper, and Alice had a private discussion, and concluded that they would try to persuade the rest of their family to move back to England even though they were there only fourteen years ago.

Despite various objections and concerns, the rest of the Cullens eventually agreed to this plan. A significant difficulty would be to find a house in a markedly different area to their previous home in case previous acquaintances recognised them. It was risky and less than ideal, but the 'gifted' Cullens made a compelling case. So when they arrive in England some 14 years after they left it, with Renesmee, Jacob and Bella in tow, they saw that the place looks roughly the same as they remembered it.

1995 'Present' day- (where a majority of the story takes place)

Within days of settling in, Edward takes Bella, Renesmee, and Jacob to Godric's Hollow (late in the night) to show them the place where his family had previously witnessed the witches and wizards celebrating the death of a man no one was willing to speak the name of. His curiosity piquing, Edward also drove his family back to Spinner's End wondering whether he would find Severus Snape there. But he could not, and could not gather from the minds around him whether the man was even alive. When they arrived home, even Alice attempted to search for the man's future, but to no avail; for some reason she was still unable to see him.

Deciding where they would go to school, and in particular, finding a job for Carlisle was difficult given that his previous colleagues were likely to be widespread across England.

Then one night, Jacob and the Cullens were hunting together in a deep forest multiple kilometres from their home. They come across animals they had never seen before, some of them with human intelligence. Knowing that it would be extremely risky to stay where they were, they left the forest immediately being careful that no one was following them. Once they exited the thicket of the forest, they come face-to-face with a tall, thin man who looked to be at least one hundred years of age. He had a long white beard, half-moon spectacles, and a wand in his hand which was pointed directly at Carlisle's chest.

Later they would learn his name: Albus Dumbledore, who informed them that they had just tried to hunt inside the 'Forbidden Forest', the area that was not protected by the enchantments surrounding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Through various deductions, the wise man concludes that this family were not human. After further discussion (of which were numerous), the Cullens learn about the Wizarding world, and Albus in turn, learns of vampires and the outstanding abilities the Cullens possess that would greatly assist in his cause.

Much to the visitors' horror, the man of whom no one wished to speak fourteen years ago, had recently been resurrected by an intricate form of Dark Magic. A war was coming- not yet here, but it would come, and Albus warned them to be careful if they chose to stay in England. By this stage, the Cullens and Jacob had become so enthralled by the complexity of Harry Potter's history with this 'Voldemort' character that they felt compelled to help these interesting humans. After various pragmatic and safety issues were resolved upon, especially with regard to the Volturi and the Ministry of Magic, the Cullens agree that instead of pursuing their education or paid work (they have a large fortune at their disposal already), they will assist Albus and his school to bring about the permanent destruction of Lord Voldemort.

The following school year, the Cullens are shown around Hogwarts castle whilst all the students are sleeping. This tour took place with the intention that once the vampires (with their perfect memories) saw the castle they would remember all the secret passageways, classrooms, common rooms etc, so if a battle were to occur there, they could easily find their way around.

It was on this occasion that Severus and Edward would meet again for the first time in 14 years.

Therefore, a majority of the cross-over stories will take place from Harry's 5th to (what would have been) his final year at Hogwarts, however I envisage at least three chapters taking place in those three hours before the Cullens catch their plane to Washington. During the years of 1981 to 1995, only one chapter will be posted which will reflect on the experiences of Severus and Edward/the Cullens during those 14 years. It will be (I imagine) quite brief.

I am not sure how many chapters these stories will entail. However, you can assume that both stories will have an equal number of chapters.

Obviously, the plotline described above will be written in much greater detail. This was only a 'sneak peek' of what you can expect. Don't worry, you will find out exactly what Edward and Severus say to each other when they first meet, and all of the conversations between Albus, Jacob and the Cullens. Thus, this story (from two different perspectives) is basically books 5 to 7 of the Harry Potter series, but from Severus' perspective with a little (or perhaps a lot :P) of Cullen intervention. However, I will warn you by saying that while the Cullens are most definitely involved, for Albus to keep them as a secret weapon for the final battle; they will not be able to do too much to influence the events that occur in canon.

And my final point: this is (I am stating it now) primarily a story between Severus and Edward. It will NOT be a romantic story in any way (just putting it out there). For those who know my writing well, this means that only the characters that have a direct impact on Edward or Severus will be written about (which will sadly mean that minor characters will be neglected). Having said this, I can most definitely incorporate short interactions between any of the Cullens and a character in the Harry Potter series should you desire J So please let me know if you would like to see specific characters have a conversation with each other. Please remember that only the Cullens or Jacob can be chosen from the Twilight world. Send your requests via a private message or leave me a comment on Facebook. Unfortunately, there may be some I will not be able to 'work in' to the story, but those I can do, I will :)

And as always, please leave me a review and let me know what you think of this prologue J

I can't wait to hear from you guys! And I am very, VERY excited to get started on these stories! My mind has been going crazy recently with all sorts of dramatic ideas!

P.S. for readers who are waiting for more 'Trust me' outtakes, I am terribly sorry I have not updated in the last few months. As you can see, other ideas have been boiling under the surface! But I have started the next outtake, and hope to post it in between posting the first and second chapter of these brother stories :) Nevertheless, I hope you can forgive me for my lack of Twi-writing!


	2. Chapter 1: Possibilities

Author's note: Firstly, I wish to thank you all for being so patient with my updating of this story. I know it's been a long time coming!

So, I wanted to put it out there from the beginning that Edward and the Cullens do NOT appear in this story until **Chapter 3**. In the mean time, I thought I would introduce you to Severus and what his life is like at this moment in time. This provided me with an exciting opportunity to think about what happened to Severus in the hours just after Lily and James' murder. Therefore, the first two chapters revolve around Severus' experience of the hours prior to discovering Lily's death to when he enters a pub (in which Edward will meet him in Chapter 3). Just a reminder that Severus is only 21 years of age, and has been a Death Eater for 3-4 years at this stage of the story.

Finally, I wish to thank my brother for spending some time discussing with me all the possible and _plausible _ways that Severus could have discovered that Lily was murdered reasonably quickly after her death. I fully understand that there are MANY ways in which he could have found out, but I hope you will agree that the one depicted in this story is one such possibility.

So enough of my rambling; I truly hope you enjoy this chapter. Please take the time to vote and comment when you're done! I look forward to reading your feedback

'Leave me'

Chapter 1- Possibilities

6:00 pm 31st October 1981

Severus' POV

At the conclusion of three hours worth of meetings with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, I was certain of one thing: the Dark Lord was _dangerously_ near the end of his tether regarding the whereabouts of Lily and James Potter. Of course, I was relieved he had yet to find them, and I would not complain if I had to endure another hundred such meetings if that would guarantee Lily's safety. As far as I was concerned, the longer Lily could be kept away from the Dark Lord's reach, the better. Even though the Dark Lord had miraculously agreed to spare Lily's life at my request, I still lay awake every night praying that my master would remain unsuccessful in discovering her location. I trusted the Dark Lord to keep his word, but knowing Lily as I liked to think I did; his promise to me would be forgotten if she did not allow him to kill her son.

_She would be dead if He found her._

I shook my head, determined not to think on it any longer; Dumbledore would have ensured her safety somehow.

Instead, I reflected on the long, intense meeting I left thirty minutes ago. All of the Death Eaters were sitting or standing in the one room in constant fear of the Dark Lord's volatile temper and sporadic torturing when one of us did not bring him the news he hoped for. The mere memory of the way his red eyes gleamed at his victims- his followers, still sent a chill down my spine. I knew I was not the only one who felt the intense malicious charge that seemed to radiate from our master this afternoon; the fool Wormtail was particularly edgy tonight, jumping out of his skin when anyone spoke to him. I wondered whether a part of him felt guilty for being a Death Eater now that his once good friends were the focus of our every conversation with the Dark Lord, but then remembered that cowardice dictated his every action. If Wormtail perceived himself in danger, he would do anything to ensure his safety, even if that meant secretly working in opposition to his best friends. This much I had learnt from working with the man over the last couple of years, and the fact he was still a successful spy for the Dark Lord after all this time continued to amaze me; I doubt whether even Dumbledore knows of his treachery.

When I arrived home, I headed straight towards the bathroom with the intention of having a warm shower. I pulled off my cloak and robes as I went, chucking them haphazardly onto my bed. In a daze-like state, knowing I would have to endure a similar meeting tomorrow night, I took my time disrobing, whilst I waited for the water to warm up.

Once I was ready, I stepped into the shower and closed the door, taking a deep breath as the warm, soothing water fell onto my body, washing away some of the tension I had felt for most of the afternoon. I allowed relief to encompass me, and permitted myself to smile briefly that my fellow Death Eaters, and thus the Dark Lord still remained ignorant of the Potters' whereabouts.

However, I also knew that it would be a miracle if _every_ meeting were to finish in the same satisfactory manner; the Potters would be found… _eventually._

_That bloody prophecy, _I thought to myself as I began to angrily scrub my body with soap.

_If I had never heard the damn thing, Lily would be safe, and I wouldn't need to fear for my life or hers every waking minute. _This fact made the anticipation of every meeting almost unbearable; if something were to happen to her I would have no one to blame but myself.

I continued to wash my body, and then my arms, adding pressure to the sponge to release the built up stress I was feeling. However, my usual showering procedure was interrupted when I eyed an abnormality that made me stop in mid-motion. I placed my left arm under the water so the white foam would fall away, and I could see my skin properly. I stared at my arm, my heart racing- adrenaline pumping through my veins.

"What?" I blurted out, both disbelief and dread consuming me simultaneously. I rubbed the water off the underside of my forearm, and then removed the water droplets from my eyes to make _certain _Iwas seeing things correctly. The water still running, I stepped out of the shower and under the bright light in the bathroom to make _sure _Iwasn't going mad. I stood freezing and dripping wet as I stared at the Dark Mark branded on my arm.

_What could this mean? _Iwondered. _I_ _didn't feel anything, no burning- nothing that would explain this change. _

_Perhaps I am worried for nothing,_ I eventually managed to console myself, as I let my arm fall to my side. I intended to return to finish my shower, but instead, I reached in, turned the water off and wrapped my body in a towel. I kept telling myself that I was imagining things, but my mind could not deny the sinking feeling in my stomach that something was wrong.

When I was half-way through getting dressed, I stared at the mark again wondering what this could mean. Several possibilities came to mind, but none of them seemed entirely plausible.

My immediate thought upon seeing my now gray Dark Mark was that the Dark Lord was dead. But it seemed so _impossible _and yet, if he was no longer living that would explain why the mark he branded his followers with has faded. Was this some sort of code he hoped we would understand? As we have no way, as far as I knew, to contact him, was this mechanism _his _way of letting us know that he was dead or perhaps grievously injured? Another possibility was that only _my_ Dark Mark has faded… perhaps this was a specific message for me alone? But I did not know where to find him, and if he wanted to summon me, surely it would burn black like it usually would? However, my arm felt no different when the mark presumably faded; no tingling, no burning, nothing. It would therefore be a poor way of alerting us to his needing assistance if indeed this was the function of a gray Dark Mark. Somehow I felt _this_ message was not intentional, but it did mean _something. _

I sighed with annoyance; I would not be able to rest until I knew the truth. It wasn't that I was worried for my master; his death would in fact be a blessing. Rather, the possibilities I had considered all had implications for myself or for Lily.

I needed more information. My initial instinct was to communicate with Dumbledore, but I decided against it for many reasons. Currently, he would be in the Great Hall at the School eating dinner with the students and staff, so the only way to contact him would be to send an owl- an owl that would take too long to reach him. I needed something more immediate to calm my nerves- someone to provide me with guidance or otherwise to label me as 'crazy'. I would have been satisfied with either, because both would ease the anxiety twisting my stomach. My next best option was therefore to consult with Lucius Malfoy. So, I finished dressing myself into a clean set of robes, and begun preparations to apparate to the Malfoy Manor.

I dared to lift my sleeve to look at my Dark Mark again when I was in the living room, about to leave my house. I had hoped the mark had return back to its normal colouring, but it was still as it had appeared in the shower: Gray.

I roughly pushed down my sleeve, then grabbed my wand from within my robes, and opened the door, slamming it shut behind me.

XXXXXXXXX

I apparated to my usual spot one block away from the Malfoy Manor. I looked around to make sure no one had seen me re-appear on the corner of two streets. Thankfully there was no one out tonight, magical or otherwise.

I took fast, long strides in the direction of Lucius' property, eager to speak with him if only for him to tell me I was crazy, that _his_ mark looked 'completely normal', and force me out of his house so I could go home and continue with the relaxing night I had planned. I hoped this would be the sequence of events for the night, and that hope increased ten-fold with every stride I took towards the large mansion.

I was relieved to find that I could walk through the gates that bordered Lucius' house. This was a good sign; he was not concerned about the possible dangers associated with a faded Dark Mark... yet. I walked past his ridiculous peacocks, my eyes focused on the front door. I took a deep breath before knocking on the large, black door with the silver snake-like ornament. I heard a gentle 'clink' as someone looked through the camera that showed those inside the visitor beyond. Then, the door opened revealing the Malfoys' house elf. He was the creature who always greeted me whenever I visited the Malfoys', so I was glad to avoid the usual customary introduction house elves give to their new acquaintances.

"Mr. Snape," the house elf greeted me, bowing to a ridiculously low level so his nose almost touched the floor, "please come in," he said, gesturing his long fingered hand into the room beyond. I stepped over the threshold and walked in acting far more confident than I felt. When I heard the door close behind me, I turned around to speak with the house elf. Had he called Lucius? Did my friend know I was here?

But before I could speak, the house elf answered my question promptly.

"The Master knows you are here, Mr. Snape. He is just finishing his meal in the dining room. Is there anything Dobby can bring for you while you wait, Sir?"

I shook my head 'no', then made my way over to one of the large leather couches Lucius had in his living room.

"Very well, Sir. Please do call if you require Dobby's services," the house elf reminded me before leaving my presence to return to the kitchen.

I sighed heavily as I sank into the chair that faced the door to the dining area. As I tried to relax, my attention kept moving to my forearm which, although covered, was constantly distracting me. Had the mark changed since I last looked? Will it progressively fade until it disappears entirely or will it always remain that same gray colour? Unable to remain in suspense any longer, I lifted my sleeve quickly, my arm resting on the comfortable rest of the chair.

_Damn, still gray. _I lowered my sleeve quickly just as the doors opened and Lucius strode out to greet me.

"Severus," he welcomed, though I could tell he was slightly annoyed at my intrusion. "I would say it is a pleasure to see you, but I confess there has not been enough time since our last meeting for me to have missed your company," he said in mild bitterness, but I nevertheless appreciated the covert way he asked me what in God's name I wanted.

"I apologise to have interrupted your dinner with your family," I said, and in the distance, I could hear a baby crying. Lucius turned back towards the kitchen as if silently determining whether Narcissa needed him. After a couple of seconds, he turned back towards me, his mouth turned into a permissive half-smile. "I know we saw one another an hour ago," I continued hurriedly, not wanting him to think I didn't realise how abnormal this conversation was, "but I grew concerned about something I noticed and hoped you would be able to provide me with an explanation for it."

Lucius paused expectantly, his eyes wide as he waited for me to continue. I could not tell if he was about to speak or not.

"What is it, Severus?" Lucius sighed impatiently, frustrated that I did not simply continue with my story. I readily bowed my apology, and then slowly rolled up the left sleeve of my robe. My heart was racing in anticipation for what Lucius would say; had his mark changed too? As I moved my sleeve gradually, I could see Lucius' interest piquing as he keenly eyed my arm. When the mark was fully visible, Lucius bent closer to it, then almost immediately moved away to allow the light from above him to shine clearly on to it. After studying my mark for a minute or two, Lucius looked into my eyes, and I knew he did not understand its meaning any better than I did. An explanation of my concern was not necessary- the gray colouring was as clear and as distressing to him as it was to me.

Hurriedly, Lucius wrenched up his own sleeve and released a small gasp when he saw his mark was identical to my own.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked under his breath, and I could tell he was panicking, which did nothing to calm my own anxiety. Somehow I felt he _knew _what it meant, but seemed unwilling to utter the possibility.

"Narcissa, contact Bellatrix for me," Lucius called out to his wife. I doubted she would have heard him given the size of their house, but to my surprise, I heard her shout back:

"I am bathing Draco. Get one of the house elves to contact her!"

"Dobby!" Lucius called imperiously, and a second later the house elf was standing in front of us, and bowed once again towards Lucius and then to me.

"Dobby is here to serve you, Master," he announced.

"I need you to bring Madam Lestrange to me urgently. She should be having dinner, and will not appreciate the interruption. Nevertheless, I require you to teleport to her dining room, and inform her that Lucius needs to consult with her about the Dark Lord. Do not return until she has agreed to accompany you."

"Yes, Master. Dobby will return as soon as he can." Then with a click of his fingers, Dobby disappeared.

"What are your suspicions, Lucius?" I dared to ask him.

Lucius stared at me with steely eyes before answering. "I would prefer to postpone this conversation until Bellatrix has joined us."

"Pardon my curiosity, but why ask Bellatrix specifically?" I enquired; I was always under the opinion that Lucius and Bellatrix did not get on very well.

"It could be argued that of the Death Eaters, she is one of the closest to the Dark Lord. If he had created our marks to fade at particular moments, she would know. Alternatively, if something has- has _happened _to the Dark Lord, I feel she would also be the most informed."

I gulped; given the Dark Lord's recent peak in determination and use of drastic measures to find the Potters' whereabouts, it would not have surprised me if, out of desperation he went to extraordinary lengths to discover them. Perhaps this is what resulted in his being seriously injured, or- or dead.

_As long as Lily is safe,_ Iconsoled myself, feeling certain that if the Dark Lord had found them at last, we and the rest of the England would have heard about it by now.

"I don't suppose we have a means of contacting him?" I asked Lucius quietly.

Lucius snorted. "Of course not."

We contemplated potential possibilities in silence for a further couple of minutes to then be interrupted by a resounding 'crack' as both Dobby and Bellatrix landed sturdily on the ground in front of us. Bellatrix made an obvious effort to snatch her robes and her limbs away from Dobby's vicinity before focusing her gaze on us.

"What is the meaning of this Lucius? How dare you ask your house elf to invade my privacy? Rudolphus and I were in the middle of dinner!"

Lucius nodded his understanding. "Yes, I apologise Bellatrix, but Severus has made a... _concerning _discovery and we wish to consult it with you," Lucius explained.

Bellatrix's large dark eyes slowly revolved to look at me. I knew she had never been particularly impressed that the Dark Lord recruited me as a Death Eater. In fact, I felt Bellatrix had purposefully ignored my existence for the good part of three years.

"What is it?" she asked me, her words hissing through her teeth.  
"I," I faltered, as she glared at me through her heavily lidded eyes, "I noticed that my Dark Mark has faded since our meeting earlier this evening. Lucius' has as well-" Before I could complete my explanation, Bellatrix roughly lifted her sleeve to look at her own mark. It too was an identical gray- one I now recognised so well. I expected her to become angry when she noticed this change, but instead she continued to stare silently, and then looked towards me and Lucius, her eyes wide with fright.

"Do you know what it means?" Lucius asked in a whisper. Bellatrix turned to look at him almost quicker than I could see.

"Does it look like I know what this means?" she demanded, aggressively brandishing her arm in front of Lucius' face. My friend appeared unamused, and did not bother to answer his sister-in-law's rhetorical question.

"But I fear- I fear something _must_ have happened to him," she uttered in a wistful tone.

"Are you able to contact him?" Lucius asked.

Bellatrix released a loud cackle. "Of course not, you fool," she cried. "But he has many loyal followers. _Someone _must know what he was planning to do tonight… or where he could be…" Bellatrix glared at us expectantly, but both Lucius and I shook our heads; we had no information to give her.

"Think harder!" she insisted, a deep growl in her throat. "You must have noticed something abnormal in the meeting or overheard something being said about what was to happen tonight!"

The three of us stood in silence as we tried to recall what happened over the last four hours. After ten minutes of contemplation, I could only report noticing that Wormtail was acting more nervous and agitated than usual.

_In fact..._

"I was the last to leave the meeting tonight aside from the Dark Lord and Wormtail-"

"Wormtail?" Bellatrix screeched in amusement. "He can't possibly have anything to do with it!"

I nodded my head in agreement. "I could not agree more, but he appeared extremely nervous throughout the meeting even though he so was not at risk of being tortured," I reasoned with her.

Bellatrix seemed to think on this for a moment, as did Lucius.  
"So you believe Wormtail was the last to see him?" Lucius clarified sceptically.

"Yes, provided that the Dark Lord returned to his hideout straight after the meeting and did not meet anyone who may have endangered his safety."

"Surely you are not suggesting that Wormtail is responsible for this?" Bellatrix hissed, lifting up her arm.

"No, merely that he may know if the Dark Lord had any life-threatening plans tonight," I replied calmly.

"I suppose we have no other satisfactory ideas..." Lucius trailed off as he tentatively left it open for Bellatrix to make the final decision.

"I suppose we must start somewhere," she snapped. "But do we know where Wormtail lives?"

"Yes," I volunteered. "He has assisted me on a number of occasions," I explained casually.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Bellatrix demanded as she made her way towards the front door so we could disapparate together on the same corner on which I arrived.

"I will remain here in case the others notice the mark and attempt to make contact. Keep me updated," Lucius requested, and I could tell he was pleased to not be joining us on this wild goose chase.

"You aren't bothering to look for your master?" Bellatrix shrieked, clearly horrified to be related to someone who did not love the Dark Lord as much as she.

Lucius narrowed his eyes at her. "You know I would, but unlike the two of you, I have a family, and my manor is one of the meeting places in which the Dark Lord and his followers have congregated previously. Therefore, it makes sense that I remain here."

"Fine," Bellatrix spat, and then spun on her heel and ran to the door. I hurried to catch up with her wondering what the night would have in store for us. But first, I needed to apparate us to Wormtail's home.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When we landed one street away from Wormtail's abode, Bellatrix immediately released my arm as if I was no better than Dobby the house elf. I tried not to be offended as I led the way towards the familiar small house that was parallel to our current location.

"When we have a better idea of where the Dark Lord may be, I shall contact Rudolphus," Bellatrix muttered to herself. I decided to ignore her; it was none of my business anyway. Instead I thought about the Dark Lord and where he could be. The faded Dark Mark could mean many things, but the most obvious was that the Dark Lord was no longer living- dead. It seemed impossible that anyone could kill him. Dumbledore did not seem the type even though he was capable, and if my master did find the Potters, while they had been able to escape him in the past, I doubted they could kill him... he seemed invincible somehow. So could he _really_ be dead?

Finally, we reached Wormtail's front door, but the lights were off. My heart sank; he must not be home. Perhaps he was still with the Dark Lord, wherever he may be? I managed to suggest tentatively to Bellatrix that we should leave and try elsewhere, but having seen our only plan be stripped away from us, Bellatrix seemed determined to remain until another plan came to mind. Perhaps as a means of thinking of one such plan, Bellatrix started to bash loudly and continuously on Wormtail's front door. I kept a watchful eye and ear on the neighbours to gauge their reactions to my companion's erratic behaviour. I knew telling her to stop would be fruitless, so all I could hope for was that Wormtail had good neighbours; the last thing we needed was to deal with Muggles at a time like this.

I could see Bellatrix growing more desperate by the minute. While she attempted to physically break Wormtail's door down, apparently using magic had yet to come to mind, she vocalised two potential plans: contacting her husband for assistance in forming a back up plan, or attempting to find the Dark Lord on our own without any facts to guide us. As for my own plans, she did not to think to enquire, and even if she did, I would have remained passive, stating I was content to follow her. In fact, I was eager to leave her presence; I did not want to be responsible for performing memory charms on any unfortunate Muggle who got in the way of Bellatrix's fury.

Thankfully, Bellatrix maintained sufficient mastery over her behaviour for a decent fifteen minutes. However, when her mind failed to think of a clearly defined plan, she pulled out her wand.

"Bellatrix!" I sharply exclaimed under my breath to reduce the chance of her turning her wand on me. "This is a Muggle town!" I reminded her.

"Oh who cares Snape! We have no lead and nothing to go on. The Dark Lord must be found..." she replied hurriedly. I studied her face and the way her eyes flickered towards her arm, and wondered whether she also hoped our marks had changed in the last twenty minutes. "If Wormtail is involved, he _must _have information in his house somewhere."  
"Surely he would not be so foolish to leave such important and potentially valuable information lying around," I commented.

Bellatrix merely shot me a dark look, which convinced me to shut my mouth. She then aimed the tip of her wand at the door knob and proceeded to undo the two enchantments Wormtail had placed on his home. I could not explain for the life of me why she did not think to do this sooner.

"Pathetic," Bellatrix muttered as she walked into the house, clearly unimpressed with the level of security Wormtail was capable of. Immediately, Bellatrix whispered: "Lumos", and then began searching for clues as to the whereabouts of our master.

I followed quickly behind her, closing the door on my way. Before I could turn around to stare properly into the room, Bellatrix had found the light switch and flicked it on, to then instantaneously scream something horrific.

"Jeez!" I cried out, covering my ears as they ringed painfully. "Bellatrix what in the-" But my exclamation was interrupted by my companion sending a red stunning spell in the direction of a rat that was scampering along the ground.

"Disgusting filth!" Bellatrix screamed as she continued to assail the animal with red bolts of light. Once the creature had run into the room next door, the kitchen from memory, Bellatrix gave up her pursuit to return to the more pressing matter of finding information about our master.

"Rats in the house," Bellatrix mumbled under her breath. "He should learn to clean." I could not agree with her more, but then realised minutes later that the house actually seemed quite tidy except for that rat. I pushed this inconsistency aside as we continued to glance at the various scraps of paper that were lying around in the living room. However, none of them provided us with any useful information regarding the current location of the Dark Lord.

Grunting with frustration, Bellatrix pushed past me and walked into the next room in search for more paper to scrounge around in. I decided not to remind her that that was the direction the rat had run in (which I later regretted), and continued to look through the final pile of documents sitting on the coffee table.

No sooner had the door to the kitchen swung open was I once again deafened by my companion's blood curdling scream.

"Oh for crying out loud, Bellatrix!" I hissed violently at her. Once again she was firing off various spells at what I could only assume was the same rat; I could see the red light glowing on the other side of the house. I decided to leave her be, but to my amazement she was still attempting to force the rat into hiding when I was ready to join her. When I entered the kitchen, the first thing I noticed wasn't the rat or even Bellatrix, but the huge sheet of parchment lying on the kitchen bench. Bellatrix was too determined to destroy the rat to have noticed it yet, so I took it upon myself to take a closer look.

At first, the lines on the paper did not make sense to me. I fumbled for the light switch behind me and managed to turn it on. This distracted Bellatrix from her pursuit as she too joined me as we stared at the blue lines on the page. They evidently _meant _something- a plan of some sort. I leaned closer, squinting in concentration. It was most definitely a map, but of what?

"What is this?" Bellatrix asked in a whisper as if she was transfixed by it. I could tell she knew without quite knowing how, that this was the key to finding our master if only we could work out what it meant.

"It looks like a maze of some sort," I commented out loud. I was expecting her to yell at me for stating the obvious, but instead she traced one of the blue lines with her thin finger.

"Yes, but where is this 'maze'?" she asked as we began to scan the outskirts of the paper in search for a name or location we recognised. I moved around to the opposite side of the table so I could have a proper look at the other half of the map. There were some words in tiny print on my far right, so I bent down to get a clear look at the letters. When my face was inches from the parchment the bloody rat leapt onto the table which made me gasp in surprise. It then proceeded to urinated directly over the two words I was trying to read.

I stared at the animal wondering whether I should curse it or simply swipe it off the table. But there was something strange about this rat; it did not appear afraid despite the trauma it just went through. Why hadn't it gone into hiding? _I_ would have if Bellatrix Lestange chased me like a lunatic around the room firing spells at me with her wand. And of all the places to _urinate-_

… And that was when it hit me. This was not _just_ a rat…

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's note: I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I admit I had quite a bit of fun writing it :) Anyway, please do vote, share, and comment, and let me know what you think! I plan to write the next chapter for 'Leave me' before starting the first couple of chapters for 'A life worth living'. Reason being, as you can probably gather, the next chapter follows directly on from where this chapter ends, so I thought I should write it while I'm on a roll. I am not sure when the next chapter will be posted up, but of course, I will make an effort to complete it as soon as possible.

Finally, I have a Facebook page where you can read teasers for upcoming chapters.

#!/Bumblebee5n4p3

Thank you so much to those of you who have already 'liked' me and said hi :) I so appreciate it!

Thanks once again for reading! I look forward to hearing your thoughts :)


	3. Chapter 2: Dead

Author's note: Welcome back to 'Leave me'! I hope you are looking forward to chapter 2, which I was able to update much sooner than I intended : ) It was a particularly difficult one to write, and I hope you will understand why when you've reached the end. There are moments in the story that are somewhat gory, _but _minimal detail is given. That is all I will say on that for now.

And while you are reading, keep an eye out for two of the Cullens who make an appearance in this chapter. Guess who ; )

I hope you enjoy the chapter, and please remember to leave me a review when you are done! If you look at the chapter name, you can probably imagine what this chapter is about…

'Leave me'

Chapter 2- Dead

Severus' POV

… And that was when it hit me. This was not _just_ a rat…

He was truly living up to his name. I had wondered why the Dark Lord referred to Peter as 'Wormtail' and now I knew: his was an Animagus. I had no doubt that being able to transform into a rat would have various benefits, such as alluding capture and attack, and I wondered how long it took for him to learn how to do it.

I swiped at Wormtail to get him off the damn map which now reeked of urine. I think he was surprised by my sudden action as I hit him solidly on the side of his body with the back of my hand. Unfortunately, I did not hit him hard enough to daze him, and he managed to scamper back towards me. I contemplated whether I should try to crush him beneath my boot or kick him before he had the opportunity climb up my leg, or worse. I decided to kick him with the point of my boot, but missed his small fury body.

"Bellatrix!" I exclaimed in frustration for she hadn't done anything to help me, too absorbed in her side of the map.

"What?" she asked, apparently oblivious to my attempts to knockout the rat.

"I found the name of the place to which this map refers, but the bloody rat urinated on it!" I hissed, staring down at the animal knowing full well he did it intentionally.

"Well I'm not going to clean it up, use your wand!" she snapped at me.

I sighed impatiently. "I would but the rat is attempting to _stop_ me."

I knew Bellatrix was about to ask me why in God's name a rat would have an agenda, but then she also made the connection. She was not as familiar with the unregistered Animagi who lived around us like I was, but the Dark Lord had hinted on numerous occasions that Wormtail's nickname suited him incredibly well. Her eyes wide with hunger and understanding, Bellatrix brandished her wand and ran over to my side of the table.

"Of course," she drawled hungrily. "I should have known."

Without me having to ask her, she began to aim various spells at Wormtail. I hoped she would hit him so he would be forced to return back to his human form, and we could interrogate him regarding the whereabouts of the Dark Lord, and any other information he may possess. But I could not rely on that; the odds were not in our favour, so I carefully used 'Evanesco' to remove the yellow urine off the parchment without removing the vital black ink.  
"Come here you piece of scum!" Bellatrix shrieked both with delight and frustration as she chased Wormtail around the kitchen which thankfully kept the poor excuse for a wizard away from me.

Finally, my cleaning chore was complete. Quickly, I bent down to read the writing upside down.

_Godric's Hollow._

"I know where we must go," I told Bellatrix immediately in an authoritative tone. I hoped she would remember our true purpose in coming here, and would be willing to give up pursuing Wormtail for now. Of course, the idiot would pay heavily for delaying us- I did not envy him Bellatrix's vengeance.

Bellatrix immediately turned towards me and she stopped chasing Pettigrew.

"Where?"

"I will tell you momentarily; I feel we should get out of here before Wormtail decides to show himself and delay us further," I informed her as I headed towards the door leading back towards the living room, my wand brandished in Wormtail's direction.

I could tell Bellatrix did not appreciate me taking the lead, but she obeyed my recommendation regardless.

As we left the kitchen, Wormtail stopped pursuing us and ran towards one of the cupboards evidently realising he could not stop us from escaping, especially when he was a measly rat.

The moment we left Wormtail's house, I told Bellatrix what I had read.

"Godric's Hollow?" she repeated confused. "Why would the Dark Lord be there?"

"There is no certainty that he is," I reminded her. "But given Wormtail was trying to prevent me from reading the name, I assume he _believes_ the Dark Lord is there at the very least."

"Why did he try to stop us from finding the Dark Lord?" she hissed aggressively, turning towards the house as if she were tempted to go back in.

"No doubt for some cowardly reason that protects his own self-interest," I muttered bitterly.  
"Pathetic," she commented. I couldn't agree more. "He probably studied that map to work out his escape plan if his mission with the Dark Lord went badly. And now the scum has abandoned him, and he did not bother to tell us where we could find him. I knew he was not to be trusted! Betrayal of the Dark Lord with cost him dearly," Bellatrix chuckled humourlessly, and I knew she was at that moment plotting the various ways she could destroy Wormtail in a painful and humiliating way on behalf of the Dark Lord if not for her own pessimistic enjoyment.

But what Bellatrix had said, triggered my memory of the blue lines; a plan of the sewerage system below Godric's Hollow. That cowardly piece of trash escaped in rat form, running away to safety leaving our master injured or… dead. However, nothing was known for certain, and I needed to snap Bellatrix out of her vengeful daydreams, and back to our current crisis.

"Bellatrix, the Dark Lord-"

"Ah yes, I will return home to gather a search party- all those who are willing to search for our master. Then we will apparate to Godric's Hollow, and search for the Dark Lord- as long as it takes. We will need to be careful," Bellatrix added as an afterthought, "it will not be easy to get through Godric's Hollow; there are too many Order-loving people living in that area."

This was true. "I can apparate straight there and warn you if I have any difficulties."

Bellatrix nodded her head in agreement. "We will meet you there," and then she ran towards an alley in which she could apparate.

I glanced around me, and then back to Pettigrew's house, wondering what he was doing at that moment. I hated that he knew more about the situation than we did; it left us blind to what would be waiting for us in Godric's Hollow. But I was not about to beg for his assistance; despite his greater knowledge, I was not that desperate. Deciding I should continue towards an understanding of what our gray Dark Marks mean, I walked hastily to my usual apparating area, and disapparated to Godric's Hollow without any idea of what I would find.

XXXXXXXXX

I landed in the Godric's HollowCemetery. The town was quite an open one which made it difficult to apparate and disapparate within it. Therefore, the graveyard was the ideal place to reappear as few people would be looking in the cemetery unless they had a particular purpose there.

The moment I landed, I noticed there were many robe-clad individuals gathered in the distance. I could not tell whether their chatter was positively tended or not, but regardless, my stomach had sunk. A small part of me had hoped that Wormtail's map was just a meaningless map; it would have allowed me to remain in ignorance and hope for a little while longer. But something had clearly happened in Godric's Hollow, and I was willing to bet my life savings that Wormtail was heavily involved, but how or why, I could not begin to fathom. I used a disillusionment charm on myself so I would blend in with my surroundings. While this meant I could not move quickly without being detected, slow movements would allow me to remain secretly hidden from those around me.

Slowly I inched my way out of the cemetery and once I exited through the gates, I realised how many people were mingling around the town square. I slowly crept through the crowd which was a huge risk in and of itself, but without knowing what I was looking for, it was the only viable option I had. It was imperative I made sure I did not get in anyone's way when they made an unnecessarily extravagant gesture, or took an unexpected step. At the same time, I was listening intently to what was being said for any hint of what happened to the Dark Lord.

I caught snippets of conversation: a mention of He who must not be named, which naturally meant the Dark Lord, and his being 'missing'. Well _that_ did not seem likely. An elderly woman was shrieking that she saw Albus Dumbledore moments ago disappearing with a baby in his arms. Her account did not seem reliable, not only because I deemed it unlikely that she _actually_ managed to catch a glimpse of Dumbledore, but also because she looked to be over one hundred and fifty. As I continued to walk through the town square, a young man said he heard an explosion which disrupted him from dinner, while another middle-aged witch was convinced 'you are all mad; none of this makes sense!' Exactly what she meant by that was unclear to me, but I was certain the Dark Lord was indeed here of recent. Something of significance had occurred, and I needed to know what that was.

In the distance, I saw a man in maroon coloured robes pointing north as he spoke adamantly to his neighbour. I did not bother approaching him so I could hear the topic of his conversation and simply hoped that walking north would provide me with the answers I needed. So I walked carefully and quietly, making sure I did not hit anyone on my way. It would not be easy for Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters to get through this many of our kind.

As I was contemplating whether to send her or perhaps Lucius a message, I leapt to my right.

"Shit," I hissed under my breath as I almost bumped into an extremely tall and pale man with brown hair. But I kept my head down and continued to move slowly so I would not be seen. Once I had walked a few meters past him, I turned around to see the tall, pale stranger still staring in my direction, and a tall blonde woman was now holding on to his arm as she too stared in my direction. The woman had to be a Veela, but I did not bother considering what such a creature would be doing in Godric's Hollow on Halloween. Of course, I knew neither of them could have seen me, but still I wondered why they continued to stare. This was dangerous; I did not want to cause suspicion.

I wondered how much further I would have to walk, and begun to fear I had missed it. But the site was impossible to miss for anyone who had eyes. There was a black gate surrounding a two storey house. Outside of this gate were what looked to be hundreds of witches and wizards, all of them staring at the house within. I followed their gaze and immediately I felt sick.

I almost dropped my wand, and my heart began to thump painfully against my chest.

There was a house that was missing half of its roof. This must have been what reportedly 'exploded'.

These days the Dark Lord would only enter a house situated amongst numerous _wizarding_ families for _one _purpose.

Shaking, I forced my legs to take me towards the house. No one seemed willing to enter, or perhaps there was a sign on the gate that prevented them from doing so. Either way, I needed to know for certain what had happened; my heart could not rest until I did. So I followed the gate around the block and was relieved to discover that it did not continue all the way around.

Slowly and carefully I approached the house, terrified of what I would find, and that someone would discover me. I held my wand tightly in my hand, my knuckles turning white from fear and the pressure I exerted. I wondered whether the back door was unlocked. It seemed unlikely. Still in my semi-invisible form, I tested the door.

Locked.

I whispered "Alohomora," which was all that was required to unlock the door.

My heart sank further. This was not a good sign. The protection from this house had disappeared, and _all _wizards and witches know it is vital to place security enchantments on one's home. The caster of the protection must have either left the dwelling or perished. I gently pushed open the door and closed it behind me, being careful to cover my tracks. I walked through the kitchen, and then entered the entrance area of the house. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary except a photo frame which had fallen off the coffee table. I dared myself to pick it up, knowing that it would confirm what I already knew to be true. I used my fingers to flip over the frame.

A photo of Lily… and her family.

I swore under my breath as I looked quickly around me. _Where are they?_ I asked myself.

_If they are dead_, I shuddered at the thought, _there should be bodies._ And if they were still alive... there probably wouldn't be a gaping hole in their ceiling.

I remained standing near the photo, forcing myself not to look at it as I tried to remain distracted with the complete _lack_ of evidence that a confrontation of any kind had occurred. For the moment, I decided not to explore the ground floor further as a majority of the duel must have happened upstairs. Slowly I ascended the stairs, each step creaking beneath my feet as I walked. My hands were shaking as I saw the top floor come into view, and every turn I made as I searched each of the rooms, I expected to see Lily's lifeless body dead on the ground.

But there was _nothing._

The final place I searched was the room furthest from the staircase. The moment I walked through the door, I realised it was a nursery, and… it was missing its entire roof. The duel occurred here, in the baby's room. The Dark Lord had found his nemesis at last…

There was no child in the cot, no bodies, no evidence whatsoever that a duel or even a murder had taken place except for the blatant fact that the place had no damn roof! Could the elderly witch have been right? Had Dumbledore somehow managed to take the young Potter's body out of the house? Was he dead? Alive? What of his mother?

As I looked around the room, I realised how 'spotless' it appeared. Of course, there was rubble on the floor in the form of tiles, plaster and dust, but it otherwise appeared like the roof simply 'caved in'. No, s_omeone _had definitely been there and effectively cleaned up whatever evidence there was that a fight or- or _murder _had taken place. It was too easy for me to blame Wormtail for the entirety of this, but I was not willing to give the man so much credit for what was a spotless job. It must have been Dumbledore. How could their bodies, presumably Lily, James and perhaps the Dark Lord and the boy's too, been so effectively removed from this location with hundreds of people walking around the streets?

_Perhaps… perhaps the bodies were not yet removed?_

This hope was somewhat ludicrous, but I was willing to consider it in my desperate state. And so I began to walk around the nursery in search of any evidence that would suggest a form of magical concealment had been put in place. I walked closer to the cot, carefully stepping around or over the rubble that littered the ground.

I stopped suddenly when I felt my boot make contact with a large pile of plaster and tile that reached the top of my knee. Not wanting to trip over it, I pushed the top of it aside to level it out with the surrounding mess, but when it toppled off, there was _nothing_ underneath it. Holding my breath, my eyes wide with confusion and fear, I slowly moved my boot over the same location which _looked _empty despite me only removing two pieces of tile off what was a huge _mound_.

My boot made contact with something _soft._

I felt bile build up in the back of my throat. I felt physically sick.

I had found a body.

When I eventually mastered control over my arm, I held my wand sturdily out in front of me, pointing it towards the invisible mound I had detected. Closing my eyes, I silently cast the incantation that would reveal any object or _flesh _that was made invisible. Once the spell was complete, I stood stationary, unable to convince myself to open my eyes.

But I knew I must.

Slowly, I opened my eye lids.

I screamed in agony when I saw a glimpse of flaming red hair through the small crack I had permitted to form between my eyelids. My eyes now wide with terror, I fell to the ground, my knees ploughing painfully onto the timber floor.

My Lily was _dead. Dead!_

"No, Lily," I sobbed, as I crawled over the sharp rubble to get closer to her body. I knelt over her form with innumerable emotions and thoughts invading my mind that I could barely function.

I struggled to breathe as I forced myself to inhale between gasps for air that pierced my lungs. I looked down at her face, her beautiful green eyes looking up at me, but they no longer held the friendliness I had loved in them, the kindness I had found in her. Her eyes were terrified, and I could imagine why. Her mouth was similarly frozen in an expression of fear and strain, and I had no doubt that she fought tirelessly to protect her son from the Dark Lord. I closed my eyes, tears escaping from them as I turned away from her face. I could not look at her any more; knowing she died traumatised and frightened made me upset and unspeakably furious. Had I never become the part of me she despised, had I stayed with her on her side of this battle, I never would have overheard the prophecy made about the Dark Lord, and I would have never been so foolish to have _told _my master its contents. I _knew _he would find her eventually, and I _knew _he would not spare her because I _knew _Lily; her capacity to love, and to sacrifice herself for that love was none I had ever known before.

_I would know._

My eyes still closed, I forced myself to reach out to her corpse. I knew she would feel cold and rigid, but I had to say goodbye. Trembling, I wrapped my arms around her small body and lifted her up so her chest was against mine. Her skin was icy and I felt her head loll back as her neck was no longer able to support it. Nevertheless, I held her to me wishing that my warmth- my life could bring her back to me. For those few short seconds, I hugged her wishing I had possessed the courage to give her such a hug when we were still friends.

Now she was _dead. _It was too late.

Tears poured heavily down my face as I pressed my lips to the side of her neck, to then be overcome with another wave of emotion.

_What am I doing? _I demanded of myself as I choked on my sobs. _She's dead, Severus! _But I couldn't let her go; I wanted to hold her and tell her how sorry I was for all the mistakes I had made in my life. I wanted to beg- I did beg for her forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, Lily," I cried, as I watched my tears fall down her shoulder and onto the floor. "Please- please forgive me," I pleaded with her soul wherever it may be. After a minute's pause, I relaxed my arms so Lily's body was further away from mine. I forced myself to open my eyes so I could stare into her terrified however lifeless ones.

"I hope you are happy wherever you are," I whispered, the taste of my tears seeping into my mouth. "Rest in peace, Lily," I begged of her, my lips trembling as I stroked her hair. "I love you." I told her for the first time in my life, my heart breaking as I felt how much I meant it, to then realise I was too late.

She was dead.

I kissed her ice-cold forehead and, overcome with tremendous grief, I slowly lay Lily's body back down on the ground. I pushed myself to stand on my trembling legs which felt weak under my body. With incredible difficulty, I forced myself to take one step away from her.

_Goodbye, Lily, _I thought to myself, hoping she would somehow know I wished to say goodbye even though I could not speak. I was now speechless, faced with the reality that even if I could have stayed, I was not able to; my heart could not withstand seeing her so pale, so cold, so lifeless. This was worse than any torture- any punishment I had ever endured in my life. I walked backwards away from Lily's body, and each step I took was agonising, a painful stab to my heart.

I jumped when my back hit the railing of the staircase. Lily's body was still in view, but I knew I must leave before someone found me here. From the stairs, I non-verbally recast the invisibility charm over Lily's body. Once it was complete, my eyes mourned the loss of being able to look at her.

Now that I knew Lily's fate, the Dark Lord's no longer mattered to me, nor did her husband's or her sons. Thoughts of murdering Wormtail for running away from _any _of this did not even stir, nor did the well-being of my fellow Death Eaters enter my mind. _None _of them mattered anymore.

I stumbled back down to the bottom floor, losing my balance on the final step, leaving me sprawled on the ground. I lay with my cheek pressed to the hard floor for multiple seconds, pondering whether I should bother getting to my feet again. I had no problem dying there; it took too much effort to walk, to move, to breathe. And so I lay face down at the bottom of the staircase, not caring how pathetic I looked, no longer caring whether I was found or caught at the scene of the most heinous crime to ever be committed. Life was too difficult to live when Lily would never again be a part of it- it was too difficult to exist when the best person you have ever known was dead, _because_ of you. In death, I could join Lily- in death I would be free from pain, free from guilt, free from _everything. _

But if I was found, death would not be the price I would pay; Azkaban would be. There were quicker and far better ways to die. It was with this determination that I dragged myself away from the stairs. My tears blurred my vision and my sorrow rendered me disoriented as I moved towards the front door rather than the back. When my hand touched an invisible ice cold limb, I gasped in shock, and recoiled away in disgust. I did not bother to reveal the body that lay there; I could not look at him. It had to be Potter's corpse. My gut clenched as I gagged, the dust from the floor, and the pain of realising what I had done made me nauseous. I managed to drag myself in the opposite direction towards the back door so I could escape what was a living replica of my worst nightmare.

Finally, I pushed open the back door, tumbled out of the house and landed on my stomach. It took the wind out of me, and I wished it had taken everything else with it. But unfortunately I was still alive, and needed to leave Godric's Hollow while I still could. It was imperative I go home, and calm down long enough to decide the best way to take my _own _life before I was captured and my fate was decided for me.

I forced myself to take deep breaths as I used the last morsel of my determination to stand up. I closed my eyes, and then focused all my energy on disapparating home.

XXXXXXX

I landed precariously on my doorstep, and I had done so praying no one would see me arrive. Not bothering to see if a Muggle had caught me materialise out of nothing, I undid the enchantments that protected my house, and then opened the door, welcoming the familiar environment. I staggered my way towards the closest chair in my house, and forced myself to use enough energy to sit in it while I contemplated my next action.

Despite how difficult my life had been in the past, suicide was never an option for me because Lily, if nothing else, was worth living for if only to see her on the rare assignment I had as a Death Eater. But now I wanted such a fate, I could not think of how best to go about it. Although I wanted to die, I doubted whether the killing curse would work when aimed at one's self. I did not want to take the risk that by some miracle my soul was not entirely willing to destroy the body in which it resides. I did not want to die painfully- I was already suffering enough of that. I simply needed a peaceful way to perish.

My clouded mind was making it difficult to concentrate; my thoughts kept sliding back towards Lily and an image of her lifeless, ghost-white body. But I forced myself to remain in the present; once I was dead, such memories would be replaced with the real Lily as I remembered her.

A poison would work- it would be effective. I paused, wondering whether I had a suitable concoction in my stores. I silently stood up and walked into my lab. I mindlessly searched the shelves for the small bottle I needed.

Nothing. I had nothing that would do something so simple.

I closed my eyes to see if I could still remember the ingredients and procedure required to make the simplest poison I knew. Thankfully my memory had not failed me.

Yet it almost seemed too difficult to bother brewing a potion when a weapon, knife, or a life-threatening fall would achieve the same outcome. But I did not want to take the risk that I would fail at these other attempts; potion-making, the creation of a poison was something I would not fail at.

I mechanically measured the ingredients I needed to make one mouthful of poison, not caring that every action I took brought me one step closer to death. There was no life for me without Lily, and I could not have any form of life knowing what I had _done_. I felt tears prickling in my eyes, but they did not fall. Instead, I felt a cold hardness come over me, almost as if I was detached from my body, from my life.

Within ten minutes the poison was brewing in a pot. I needed to wait two hours for the concoction to brew before I would be lying on the floor of my own house, grateful to no longer be breathing and existing in a body that was falling apart with every moment as grief tore at my flesh and my soul.

Two hours.

I walked back into my living room towards the front door. When I reached it, I turned to look at where I had just come. A comfortable lounge was there- I could so easily sit in it and wait. But even that seemed too difficult- too painful. I needed to escape from this- two hours was far too long to suffer, I had experienced enough of that. I was not about to feel this way in my final moments of life, even though I deserved it. The pain needed to be lessened _now. _

Without thinking about my actions, I left my house, wand in hand as I renewed the protections around my property to ensure no one disturbed my vital brew. I trudged my way towards the other end of my street as I headed for the bottle shop. I barely registered the sign on the front door of the store reading: 'Closed'. I just kept dragging my feet further up the road. Ahead on the right was a public building with a light on. I recognised the location well; it was my father's favourite place. I felt drawn to it, knowing that it housed what I needed in abundance. Something to numb my pain- anything to take me away from the torturous hell I was now living in.

I entered the pub and managed to seat myself at the bar knowing the bartender would need to be close at hand for me to endure the next couple of hours of my life without going mad. Now that I was here, I considered drinking to death; much like my father did years ago. And if that did not work, then I would have a more effective option waiting for me in 2 hours time.

Although I sat myself quietly on the bar stool, the bartender still managed to hear me arrive. He turned around, his eyebrows rising when he looked at my face. I knew the skin around my eyes was swollen; I could feel it pulsing painfully every second, and my eyes themselves would have been bloodshot from the tears I had shed. I wondered whether he considered if I was already under the influence, but he did not utter any words about my appearance. Instead his concern and confusion was written all over his face. Although I was almost blinded with grief and emotional agony, I recalled that this man was a Muggle, so I subtly placed my wand within my cloak when he had his back turned as he put some glasses he was drying back onto their shelf. When he faced me once again, his dark eyes squinted slightly as if wondering what I was doing there if I wasn't going to order anything.

Eventually he asked: "What can I get you?"

"The strongest drink you possess," I answered automatically, not bothering to raise my eyes to meet his gaze.

"Have you had a bad day?" he enquired. I lifted my head to stare at him, and I continued to do so, unable to speak, and daring him to say more. I felt particularly sinister given the question. Where should I begin with this naïve Muggle? Should I start with my childhood, and the abuse I endured from my father? Or the bullying I experienced at school from none other than the now deceased Potter? Or should I get straight to the fact that I was responsible for the death of the only woman to have cared for me, and the only woman I will ever love?

But I did not have the energy to speak about such memories; the point of my being in the bar was to reduce, even slightly, the lasting impact all of those things had had on my life. So I remained silent, but I trained my eyes to follow his menacingly. The bartender was a middle aged man with gray flecks among his short black hair, and with that age, he was smart enough to turn away from me, and pour my drink.

"It's bourbon," he informed me as he placed the glass of spirits in front of me.

I gave him a single nod of understanding, and then downed the drink in one. I felt relief when I swallowed the liquid which burned my throat on the way down. The pain I felt lessened what I felt in my heart. I reached into my pocket and threw multiple pounds on to the bench to pay for that drink and the next five.

Again the bartender stared surprised at the change on the bench, but was wise enough not to comment on it. He stayed by me as I continued to drink bourbon after bourbon, after bourbon. After my fourth drink within half an hour, I realised that excessive drinking would not kill me in the way I wanted it to. Rather, it would likely result in alcohol poisoning or my passing out. Both of these would prevent me from completing my ultimate plan, and while I had originally intended to drink myself as far as my body could handle, death would not be the result of that. My pain had lessened, it _almost _felt non-existent to me, but it was still there, my heart pulsing painfully every moment I continued to live. But even if I was completely numb, separated from my body and my emotions, I would still remember what I did- what I had seen in Godric's Hollow that night, and that alone reminded me that my life was not worth living.

In the remaining ninety minutes of my life, I was grateful to the bartender who loyally stayed with me, instead of closing his pub like he usually would have done. I had the feeling he sympathised with how pathetic I looked, and appreciated the business I was providing him. I didn't mind his company insofar that he kept his mouth shut and provided me with what I needed to cope through the remaining minutes of my life. The silence was peaceful and much appreciated, in a place where no one knew of the tragedy that took place mere towns away.

However, ten minutes later, just when I thought my night could not possibly get worse, the solitude I had so appreciated was rudely interrupted…

XXXXXXXXXXX

Author's note: Thank you for making it through this chapter. Despite the nature of its content, I hope you found it interesting and felt Severus' discovery of Lily's body to be a realistic one. For those who are wondering, in this fic, it_ was_ Dumbledore who was the first to arrive at the Potters after Voldemort's attack. I believe he would have close tabs on the Potters' lives even though he wasn't their Secret Keeper. It was he who magically hid James and Lily's corpses, which he did when he retrieved Harry from his cot. I imagine he intended to return later (once Harry was safe and other important issues were sorted out) to properly organise how to respectfully bring them out of their home and into the cemetery without thousands of eyes watching. Of course, this is merely my guess of what may have happened in canon; there could have been _several _other equally plausible sequences of events.

Considering the nature of this chapter, I wish to emphasise (which I believe I did in the introduction to this story as well) that I do not in any way endorse the action of suicide, and I say this with sincerity. As a provisional psychologist, suicide or the potential of it is not a rare topic for us. I imagine that much of my career will be spent talking about or working with individuals to _reduce_ their risk of suicide. Therefore, I want my readers to understand that I am using suicide both as a means of reflecting what I believe is a tendency in Severus to be extreme when facing emotional turmoil, and as a plot device that will initiate Severus' contact with the Cullens (or more specifically, Edward). But through his character, I wanted to demonstrate my empathy for those who _do _feel suicide is their _only _option. But naturally, I do believe there are ways to get through such a time, but unfortunately not everyone has the support they need to make it through such a dark time…

So as I promised you, Chapter 3 will include a majority, if not all of the conversation that takes place between Edward and Severus. I have yet to write it yet, so I am not sure how long it will be. It may span over two chapters- we will see J But before that is written, the Cullens' side of the story must be told. So the next chapter I post up will be a recount of what they were doing since 6pm on 31st October 1981. And as always I will try to post it up as soon as possible.

Please do review; you know how much I love hearing from my readers :) I look forward to reading your thoughts about this chapter!

Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me!


	4. Chapter 3: Mystery

Author's note: Hello to all my wonderful readers! I imagine this is a much anticipated chapter as we see Edward through Severus' eyes when they meet for the first time. It is quite a long chapter because I wanted to fit the entire conversation into one post, so I hope you don't mind As always, happy reading, and please do let me know what you think!

'Leave me'

Chapter 3- Mystery

Severus' POV

The bar tender and I co-existed together rather well. He was a quiet, respectful man who was comfortable with the silence that permeated between us. Loyally, he held the bourbon bottle in his hand, constantly ready to fill up my glass whenever it was near empty. Although I had been through Hell that day, I felt peaceful and resolved in the way my life would soon end. Every sip I took helped numb my body, to the extent where my head was somewhat clouded, and the agony from earlier was reduced to a dull pain in my chest. I kept drinking glass after glass, knowing that if I stopped I would be forced to address reality- address the thoughts that would no longer be hidden in the cloudiness of my mind. I could not allow myself to feel any longer; my body would not survive the sheer agony of my guilt let alone the horrific images that floated through my mind.

I felt at peace in the pub, getting into the rhythm of drinking whenever a thought or image appeared in the shadows of mind. Nevertheless, time passed slowly, an experience I knew I deserved in lieu of all I had done; this was God's way of reminding me of every error I had ever made. There were numerous. Excluding the events of the day, I was able to relive aspects of my past in a neutral fashion; undoubtedly the numbing effect of the alcohol was working. In this strangely restful state, I thought of Lily, the woman I knew at Hogwarts and thanked her for all she had given me in the years of friendship we shared. The knowledge that I would be with her again soon, helped me stay calm- I would have eternity to make it up to her. I then watched myself beg both Albus Dumbledore and the Dark Lord to keep Lily safe, but instead of seeing how they both failed, I could observe my desperation, my love for her. The alcohol numbed the pain, but not my love, and this is what I was left with in the final hours of my life. I retrospectively realised that Lily's life should have been placed in my own hands, someone who truly loved her, rather than trusted to two powerful, agenda-driven wizards. I would have done anything, sacrificed my own life if it meant she remained alive and whole. If only I could go back in time and kept the words of the prophecy to myself. It pained me to acknowledge I never would have heard it if I was not spying on Albus Dumbledore on the Dark Lord's orders.

What possessed me to defer to the Dark Arts? Certainly, I was fascinated with the art, and possessed extensive knowledge in its magics, but that was surely not enough. Perhaps it was my way of escaping from her, escaping from the reality that we were no longer friends. I had lost her respect, her friendship and her love, but I did not change sides in spite of her, but because I believed I had nothing left…

I took another sip of bourbon and closed my eyes with renewed knowledge: _this _is how it felt to have nothing.

When the bartender, still patient and silent poured my sixth drink, the door to the bar quietly swung open. To my left, I could hear the sound of a single pair of footsteps enter the small dwelling- intruding on my solitude. Despite my drunken state, my training as a Death Eater had ensured my senses were sharp. The person had a soft walk; they could barely be heard as they gently closed the door behind them and walked up to the bar. When they spoke, I discovered it was a man, his voice deep and smooth as he spoke with the barman. Although I was disgruntled that this man had stolen my silent companion from me, I did not look up from my glass, and I did not speak. Eventually, the man sat down at a stool two to my left, and I could hear the bartender pouring him a drink as they conversed. When I heard the bartender mention that he would usually be closed by now, I begun to tune them both out; small talk was of no interest to me.

I expected the conversation to last for a couple of minutes, but five minutes later they were still deep in discussion. Why? People enter bars to drink, to pass time in a silent, numbed state. But this man seemed determined on making friends which would not bode well for me. I was not in any humour to speak let alone be friendly with anyone, especially a stranger. Despite my attitude and my intentions, I _did_ have alcohol in my system. So eventually I looked inconspicuously to my left to have a quick glimpse of the man.

I felt my eyebrows rise when my eyes rested on the side profile of the most recent inhabitant of the pub. He was unmistakably a _boy_ on the higher end of adolescence, but still young. I had expected someone in their mid-forties given the day and time- young people do not live in Spinner's End and they most certainly would not choose to drink in _this _pub. It was 8:30pm in the evening on a week night. What was this kid doing here? Why was he not at a Halloween party, dressed up like some of the other teenagers I had seen that night?

Despite my curiosity as to why he was there, I did not wish to encourage conversation, so I kept my gaze focused on my glass, watching the liquid slowly disappearing with each sip. When the boy received his own drink he did not sip from it, which was something I noticed in my peripheral vision. There were several other features I noticed on his person that caught my eye too due to their being rather unusual. His hair was a shocking bronze colour, and his skin appeared to be perfectly smooth which I knew to be unusual for anyone in adolescence. After these observations, I ventured to turn slightly in my chair to get a better glimpse of him. I chose to do this when I knew he was looking away from me still making small talk with the bartender. I could see his eyes moving, and noticed they were a bright, honey colour. Surely they could not be the natural colour of his irises? No one has eyes so shockingly bright, especially someone in Spinner's End. Clearly, this boy was a visitor, though why he chose to enter this pub is beyond me; there were plenty of other more ones closer to London. Nevertheless, his tall, eerily perfect physique had me conclude he was born in a foreign country, and clearly knew no better.

I continued to drink my bourbon and once I had finished it, I interrupted the boy and the barkeeper's conversation to ask for another. Whilst the bartender was pouring my drink, the boy swiveled in his stool to look at me front on. I felt my eyes widen in surprise when I stared the boy up and down. It felt almost indecent to do this so obviously, but the amount of alcohol in my system and the desire for a distraction from the far more painful experiences in my life, motivated me to continue studying him. This kid was almost god-like, not because of his appearance necessarily, but the air around him as if he commanded power I did not quite understand. Of course, the alcohol was undoubtedly exaggerating my processing of his appearance, but his sense of otherworldly superiority was not lost on me. The boy gave a brief grin almost as if he heard my assessment of him, but he need only look at my wide eyes to have guessed what I was thinking. A moment later his smile had disappeared and was replaced with a contemplative expression.

"I was talking to the bar tender a moment ago," he informed me unnecessarily. Did he think I was stupid? His statement convinced me we would not compatible. "He told me that you entered this pub just before he was about to close it. I thank you, I was hoping this place would still be open," he told me animatedly as he took the first sip of his drink. I gave him a single nod in acknowledgement of his thanks, and hoped he was done with me.

Within seconds, however, I found myself pondering over his desire to come to this particular pub, and what it was about his voice that seemed strange to me. He had an English accent, but the way he spoke suggested he came from an upper-class and sophisticated family. Even though his appearance suggested otherwise, this boy was clearly well-educated and older than he looked.

"I haven't had the best day," the boy continued telling me as if cared, completely ignorant of the silence I had left him in. However, his words brought me to my senses, because they suggested a story was about to begin, and I would not have it. I had done countless terrible things in my life, but surely none as to deserve _this_ in the final minutes of my life on Earth? What happened to the peace I had moments ago?

I sighed in response to him, already impatient with his clear desire to confide in me; was there anything about my demeanor that suggested I was interested in talking about my personal life?

"Neither have I," I answered him dismissively, my words the greatest understatement of my life. I prayed he did not want to talk further about it. After I spoke, I registered how slurred my words were, and how incapable I was of controlling my tongue. I needed to remain silent; I could not risk speaking in the presence of two Muggles when I had no control over what I was saying. Unfortunately, my faculties would only deteriorate the more I drank, and with the introduction of this kid, there was no chance of me stopping until I was ready to return back home.

"That is why we are here to drink, I suppose," the boy muttered out loud, turning away from me to continue sipping from his drink, "in an attempt to forget it all."

_To make the pain go away until I can truly forget via the process of death, _I said bitterly to myself, wishing the minutes would go by faster.

We sat in silence for several minutes as I drank the remainder of my drink and ordered yet another. Although the next glass was cool within my hand, I realized I was not mindlessly sipping it. What had this boy done to make a mess of his life? Why was he drinking? It probably wouldn't come close to the mess that was my life.

"Unfortunately alcohol is only a temporary solution," the boy mumbled under his breath as he took a large gulp of his drink shortly after these contemplative thoughts entered my head. "Some things you will never forget no matter how much you consume."

_True, _I thought to myself, not caring that I was agreeing with the kid. It was for this reason exactly that death is the only option for me; I will never forget the part I played in Lily's dead. My guilt, my remorse, the pain of knowing nothing would ever make up for it was a life I could not conceivably live. I would continue to seek death with every breath I took.

"But," the boy sighed, speaking as if he knew I was listening even though neither of us were looking at one another, "I suppose we are not meant to forget. Those memories are what motivate me to make amends for my mistakes. It is almost impossible to feel like it's enough. But it is all I can do for now and I suppose I must be satisfied with that…" The boy shook his head sadly as he took another sip of his drink. I wondered what _he _had done and how he was trying to 'redeem' himself. Unlike him, who was evidently attractive and had the resources to perhaps reverse at least part of the damage he caused, whatever that might have been, I did not have that option; no one can bring people back from the dead.

The boy turned on his stool to study my face, his bright honey-coloured eyes staring into mine. The intensity of his gaze frightened me; I felt like I was being analysed; whatever he was about to say, I knew I wouldn't like it.

"What are you trying to forget?" he ventured quietly, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Everything," I informed him immediately, averting my eyes from his, no longer able to look at him. I could feel the word slur between my lips; my tongue did not appear to be working as quickly as it usually would.

The boy nodded as if he understood. "And how is that working out for you?" he asked sincerely as if truly concerned for my well-being. His curiosity and his apparent genuine interest in me angered me in a strange way. Why did this kid care about me when I clearly did not?

"I still remember my name so not too well," I snapped at him in frustration.

"Your life cannot be that terrible," the boy told me gently, as he bent closer to me in a convincing manner. I began to clench the glass in my hand as I tried to control my anger at his continued attempts to make me talk.

For a split second, I was about to scream at him. It was only then that I realized the potential dangers of speaking with a Muggle under the influence of alcohol. So I had to ground myself before I unintentionally screamed every portion of evidence I had to prove that my life truly wasthat terrible. Thankfully I managed to hold my tongue- this night would become far worse if I was unfortunate enough to reveal the existence of the magical world to two Muggles. Instead I took a deep breath.

"You know nothing of my life," I mumbled harshly, as I forced myself to look into his young face to show I was convinced of this fact. The boy dipped his head towards my drink on the counter.

"Well I know you are attempting to drown yourself in alcohol. Given that I wish to do the same, there must be something we have in common- something about your life that I can understand," he offered, a foolish sense of hope in his voice.

"What it means to be drunk," I told him shortly, knowing it would be where the similarities between us starts and ends. The boy chuckled.

"Hmmm yes, though I imagine our reasons for desiring such an existence are not wholly different," he answered thoughtfully as if truly contemplating further ways in which we were similar.

"Are you incapable of drinking in silence?" I hissed at him.

The boy stared at me for a moment, his eyes tight in curiosity as if wondering whether he should stop speaking for my sake.

_Please do._

But then, he replied: "No, but usually when I have a few drinks in a bar, I enjoy a chat here and there," he casually informed me.

"Well stop looking for it here; there are plenty of other bars in larger towns with _other_ people who I am sure would enjoy your conversation," I hastily praised him, in the hope my suggestion would encourage him to leave quicker.

"But you do not?"

_Hell, no._

"No."

"Well I am sorry to hear it. Unfortunately, I have no means of transportation otherwise I would leave you to your solitude," and he did seem sorry for inconveniencing me. For a second I thought he may not be so bad, that perhaps the alcohol made him more sociable, and incapable of detecting my annoyance with him. However, this positive appraisal of him was short lived.

"Is this your way of telling me you're not going to shut up?" I drawled at him, my words slurring together. I looked at my watch: I would not survive another hour of _this_.

_God is cruel._

The boy tilted his head slightly to the side as he watched me ponder the torture that would be the next hour- the final hour of my life. Perhaps home would be the better option than here with this boy? I contemplated standing up and walking out, but I knew my legs could not hold me steadily and I had the sense the boy would not allow me leave in my current state. Eventually I turned away from him, hoping that my question had rendered him permanently speechless. I could feel his eyes on me as I took another sip of my drink. I should have known he was thinking of his response, and when I heard it, that was when I lost any hope of him ever leaving me alone.

"Why don't you want to talk?" the boy asked me slowly, gently and instead of ignoring him, I found myself looking into his bright golden-brown eyes, feeling my heart begin to race in fury.

"Why do you _want_ to?" I demanded loudly, wanting to break his 'caring' tone. What did he want from me? I could feel the alcohol taking control over my emotions, and I hated losing control.

The kid shrugged, not at all phased by my outburst. "It sometimes helps to talk about things; then it's easier to deal with. Don't you agree?"

I snorted. "Never tried, and never intend to," I informed him wholeheartedly. "And I'll be damned if I sit here listening to you talk about your life. Speak to the bartender instead, that's why he's here; to listen to pathetic people like you," I asserted harshly, pointing in the direction of the bartender, whose eyes were wide in surprise at being addressed.

He recovered quickly though, and knew he wanted to challenge my appraisal of the boy as 'pathetic'. Perhaps this is what surprised him, rather than being spoken to. But before he could speak, the boy held up his hand indicating the man should remain silent. When I saw this out of the corner of my eye, I turned slightly to face the boy, wondering whether he was about to attack me. A vague portion of my brain told me that I should be wary and prepared to defend myself is necessary. My hand flickered towards the pocket of my robes, but then I slowly forced myself to drag my fingers away from my wand; it would not do well to attack the kid with magic in front of another Muggle. In this state, I could not hope to trap both of them and perform memory charms before anyone discovered what I did. In this state, there was no guarantee my skill would be half its usual standard, so there was no guarantee of an effective memory charm.

Unfortunately my brief action towards my pocket was not missed by the boy, who eyes widened in fear momentarily, under the assumption I possessed a gun. In some regards, my actual weapon was far worse, but naturally he did not know this. Outside I heard a faint gasp. This did not distract me as it was barely audible, but the boy turned towards the door as if it were loud enough to startle him. After a few seconds, the boy turned back to me, and I knew he was wary of me now.

After moments of silence during which the bartender looked between the two of us, no doubt wondering whether a brawl was about to begin, the boy eventually replied to my request with a comment I was far from expecting.

"Do you think I am pathetic?" I stared at him, my brain unable to think of the immediate come back I had hoped to conjure. Instead I watched to see if he seemed offended by the name I called him, but instead he seemed genuinely curious. He did not question me about the potential weapon I almost went to grab and instead he continued our conversation as if nothing had happened: a wise choice. Eventually an appropriate response came into my cloudy mind.

"Yes, just drink your damn drink and be done with it!"

"With what?" the boy questioned, apparently confused by what I meant.

"Your talking! No one cares about your life!" I hiss at him, frustrated with his persistence and apparent stupidity which I knew he wasn't. In a matter of minutes I had let this kid had make me angry- I should have shut my mouth from the very beginning even though I doubt it would have altered his behaviour. I would have given anything for the peaceful solitude I had before he arrived.

"No one? Or just you?" he questioned me, his eyes narrowed as he challenged me.

I stared at the boy, his attractive features, white teeth, and smooth skin. Of course people cared about _his_ life- most would purely for the way he looked, but I did not have time for people like him- for anyone.

I refused to answer his question.

"I wonder…" the boy pondered quietly when he was sure I was not going to answer him, "whether anyone cares about your life?" I had the sense he was merely thinking out loud, and did not mean to offend me. Nevertheless, my hand instinctively twitched towards my wand again, but I was able to control myself better this time and forced both of my hands to stay around the glass on the bench.

But of course the answer to his question was a simple one: No. And I had no problem informing him of this.

"No, no one does," I told him with certainty, numbed to any emotions I should have felt acknowledging such a fact to a stranger. In any case, it made dying far easier.

"Perhaps they would if they knew you," the boy pointed out kindly as if to cheer me up.

"Has our little discussion in this bar convinced you that I am someone worth knowing?" I asked him sarcastically, feeling my nerves grate against one another in frustration.

He shrugged. "I do not make a habit of judging people before I get to know them."

"Well you can be certain I am not worth your attention _or _worth knowing," _given this is my last day on Earth, _"so do not waste your time speaking with me," I informed him forcefully, hoping- praying he would be convinced and leave the pub.

"I do not perceive this to be a waste of time," he told me seriously. The kid almost sounded offended and I found this so unexpected I looked up at him. His eyes were watching me, almost sympathetically, and I wondered whether his objective coming into the bar was to speak with me. Regardless, I could not help but believe that he truthfully saw some value in our conversation. Of course, unknown to him, he _was_ wasting his time; I would be dead in a matter of hours.

"Well you are wasting mine," I spat at the boy despite my knowing that he was genuine in his assertion; the more he spoke, the angrier I felt. I wished he would bloody leave the pub; he was making my life more miserable and more tiring than it already was. "Pour me another," I requested of the bar tender who took no time filling up my empty glass once again.

"Easier to drink than face life, isn't it?" the boy philosophized nodding his head towards my now full glass as he watched me take a large gulp of the drink.

"What would you know of it?" I replied, and then immediately regretted it; the alcohol made me far more talkative than I usually would be. This made it difficult to inhibit my responses when a question is asked of me.

"I told you before that I have made mistakes in my life-" he reminded me, but I cut him off.

"Were you a truant? Did you knock up a girl?" I slurred at him, my lips turning up slightly at how pathetic he was; his mistakes could never compare to mine.

The kid gave me a wry smile, an expression which gave me the distinct feeling that he also considered those 'mistakes' to be as inconsequential as I did.

"No, manslaughter actually," he informed me as if this was a casual fact that no one should be shocked by. Perhaps he was trying to impress me with the indifferent way he said it, and it worked though in a different way. I felt my heart race and my palms felt slightly wet; I was scared. But I was also shocked into silence; this kid had admitted being guilty of manslaughter to two strangers. The bartender seemed to be thinking along similar lines, and I knew he was questioning whether he should continue serving alcohol to this boy. If he knew what I had done, he would probably throw us both out of his pub for fear of his own safety.

My immediate response was to emphasise that his words did not phase me because I too had committed such a crime three times over. But instead, I found myself staring at the boy in disbelief and fear; what was I supposed to say to a statement like that? Although I was responsible for the death of the Potters, I was not the one who killed them, but this boy… perhaps he was to blame for the person or people he killed?

"You seem surprised," he surmised, undoubtedly from looking at my expression. "Why?"

_God this boy is thick. _A brief look at the bartender told me I was not the only one who was shocked by the kid's question.

"You do not appear to be old enough to commit such a crime," I told him, though of course there was a far more obvious explanation for my disbelief. For a moment, the boy looked at me, a smile on his face, and then his eyes averted towards the ground. In a matter of seconds, he began to laugh. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the sound: both musical and threatening.

I contemplated placing my hand in my pocket to clutch my wand incase this kid was here to kill me. Of course, I would not have had a problem with this given the intentions I had with my own life, but at least poison would be painless- his methods may not be. Perhaps it was the look on my face or the movement of my hand, but suddenly the boy's expression turned serious when he lifted his head to stare at me.

"I am older than I look. And despite my appearance, I _have_ killed innocent people, and life was unbearable for a time… until I realized I could make a difference- make amends for the lives I took," he told me slowly no doubt to give me time to process his words.

"It is impossible to replace someone's life," I almost spat at him, thinking of Lily. "No matter how sorry you may be, some deaths are unforgiveable," I told him with feeling, hoping that if he understood my perspective he would stop speaking to me.

The kid looked at me inquisitively, his head tilted to the side. "Did you kill someone too?" he dared ask me.

The bartender almost fainted when I nodded my head. "Three people." I did not bother telling him there have been others I murdered on the Dark Lord's orders; I did not feel guilty for their deaths as they were not to be trusted by either side.

The boy simply nodded at me. "I have killed eight people."

"Tonight?" I blurted out, as fear and adrenaline pumped through my veins at the possibility of being in the presence of a serial killer.

The boy smiled at me. "No, but everyday I try to make amends for the loss of their lives."

I stared at his mouth, the teeth he was showing me- that smile which was not menacing, but hopeful and gentle, as if he truly believed he was making a difference to people's lives. I wanted to conclude he was a fool, but something about him suggested he was otherworldly- that he truly was able to make amends for his mistakes.

"Is there a point to this conversation?" I asked of him genuinely curious now, my drink miraculously forgotten on the bench. "Did you come in here to scare me?" I unwillingly asked, the remnants of the alcohol in my system taking over. But the atmosphere in the bar had changed within the last couple of minutes and I could sense the bartender's unease being in the presence of two people who have the capacity to kill.

"I can see you are not, though perhaps you ought to be," the boy replied with a crooked smile.

I was shocked to discover he believed I was not scared; my heart was beating wildly and the longer I sat there watching the unnatural stillness of the boy's body, and hearing the tone in his voice, the more I questioned whether he was deadly. I had a flashback to when our conversation first began: the way he stared at me was as if he were a predator eyeing its prey: me.

"From what you have said, it sounds like you repent the crimes you committed, so at present, I have no reason to fear you," I lied, because despite the logic I could muster, I felt extremely vigilant.

"Then you have made a wise judgment. You have no reason to fear me," he echoed my words as if to emphasise the importance and truth of this fact. "Perhaps you should try to forgive yourself for whatever crime you feel you have done."

Now it was my turn to give him a grim smile. I turned away from him, unable to look in his bright golden eyes.

"Self-forgiveness is impossible for me," I told him quietly. "I killed someone I love."

This gave the boy pause. I could feel his eyes staring at me, but I couldn't look up to meet them.

"If I had it may have been easier to work out how to make things right-"

"Her family are dead," I countered him immediately, knowing what he was trying to suggest. _I killed them too. _

"If you loved her," the boy asked gently, curiously, his eyes boring into mine, "why did you kill her?"

"It was an accident, thus the manslaughter," I fired at him, sick of talking about Lily as my grief threatened to overpower the numb feeling the alcohol had provided.

"And you blame yourself for her death?"

"There is no one else to blame!" I shouted at him.

"That doesn't mean it was your fault," the kid replied almost as if he were singing to me.

I turned away from him, embarrassed because for some ridiculous reason I felt he was singing me a lullaby. I could not begin to explain why; it was as if he was trying to calm me. He didn't say anything to me while I stared at my glass, unsure what to say to him. Of course it was my fault; he did not understand the intricacies of the role I played.

After a couple minutes of silence, I raised my eyes to look at the boy, wondering what he was doing. I was expecting his eyes to meet mine instantaneously, but instead he was staring towards the door. His focus seemed to be miles away. I didn't mind in the slightest and went back to drinking. After another two minutes of bliss, the kid opened his mouth again.

"What are you going to do about it?" His question was vague, but I knew what he was asking: what am I going to do with my guilt- with my pain.

_Kill myself so I can be free._

I shrug, not knowing what I could say to him; my answer no longer mattered.

"Surely there is something you can do to make things right again?" he asked gently, his eyes focused on me again.

I stared viciously at him. "Perhaps you feel your actions may have righted the imbalance you created in the world by killing eight innocent people, but there is _nothing_ I can do to redeem myself of this mistake," I hissed at him, wishing he would understand that my predicament was completely different to his. And in my drunken state, I had little patience to continue speaking about pointless hypotheticals.

"Or mend your heart," he added watching me so closely as if he was paying attention to my every word. His words were _still_ musical in their tone- what was he trying to do to me?

I turned away from him, feeling vulnerable in front of the kid.

"So what are you going to do?" he whispered again after a time.

"Nothing," I lied to him; the plan for my own murder replaying itself in my mind as I spoke.

"You will let her death go to waste?"

"Nothing could ever be gained from her death! Don't you dare speak of things you do not understand! Her life has been wasted, nothing I can do could ever change that," I choked out.

"There must be something, and when you find it you could channel your energy, your grief, your remorse, your love," he looked at me briefly before continuing, "into doing that thing for her- something that might matter."

"There is nothing," I insist. "Her child and husband are dead."

The boy raised his eyebrows as if he doubted my statement.

"There must be a way; everything is able to be balanced."

_Is he preaching to me now?_

"Why can't you accept that such balance is impossible for some of us? We cannot all be as lucky as you!" I snapped at him, feeling frustrated by his philosophical ideals- such possibilities do not exist in the real world- there is no justice, no balance, otherwise Lily would still be alive. "And perhaps I don't want to be forgiven," I added, because there would be no point in attempting to make amends if I was unable to live in my very skin.

"Then how will you live with your pain?" the boy asked, a curious expression on his face.

"I won't," I told him clearly, the first time I uttered out loud my intention to take my own life even if it was in this indirect way. My eyes filled with tears that were out of my control as I realized how much I desired death, my hate towards myself, and my grief for Lily, all collapsed in a heap on my chest. I had achieved nothing else in my sorry life.

When he had processed my words, the boy's hand moved a few inches towards me as if he wanted to comfort me, but then he seemed to think the better of it. Instead the boy stared at me for a long time. I was tempted to use Legilimency on his mind in the hope of pre-empting what he would say or do next, but I was too drunk to make a proper attempt of it, and too emotional to keep staring at him. Eventually I dropped my gaze no longer able to watch his sympathy for me. I had told him too much- far too much. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look towards the door and I wondered whether he was finally going to leave me alone. In the meantime, the bartender sat on a stool behind the bar, remaining utterly silent, I couldn't even hear him breathe as his gaze switched between me and the boy.

After ten minutes of silence, with only 20 minutes remaining of my time before I could return to my house and consume the potion that would end my life, I hoped the boy had realised his discussion with me was a lost cause. If only I could have been that lucky.

"You can't forgive yourself?" he whispered into the deadly silent bar.

I stared at him in disbelief. _Could you if you were me? _I asked him in my mind, not wanting to open that door with the boy otherwise I would be doomed to yet another discussion with him.

"Of course not," I hissed at him.

"You don't believe you deserve it?"

_Do you think I deserve it? _I shouted at him in my head. I remembered the moment when I found Lily's body beneath all the rubble, hidden, and invisible, her life forgotten by everyone except me, as if her life meant nothing. But she meant everything to _me! _I remembered her beautiful green eyes looking up at me, wide and filled with fear. How could I forgive myself for causing her so much pain in the last moments of her life?

I saw the boy cringe during my recall, though I couldn't understand why. Perhaps the expression on my face told him I was remembering something painful.

I wanted to demand he tell me how I could possibly forgive myself for _this_? For her misery? For the loss of her life, her husband's life, and her son's? If I had kept my mouth shut, the Dark Lord would not have known about the prophecy and Lily would still be alive. My actions were _unforgiveable_.

I could not answer him; to even imagine forgiving my own sins was unthinkable- there was not an ounce of my soul that believed I deserved it.

"I can see you love her," the boy observed, lowering his body towards me. "But your actions cannot be as terrible as you say they are. Her death was an accident after all."

I stared angrily at him; I was done discussing this. Finally the boy seemed to get the hint and sat up straight on the stool, giving up on his attempt to engage me in conversation.

"Of course, I cannot stop you from doing what you feel you must. I wanted to do something similar when I killed all those people too. But then I remembered there was more to my life than just me, that there were people who would miss me if I died."

Quickly, the boy turned towards the door again, and through my clouded mind I wondered what was so significant about that door; the boy kept glancing in that direction.

"No one would notice if I died," I informed him. In response, the kid turned around to watch me again.

"I am certain someone would."

"They would notice, but they would not care," I clarified, because of course people such as Lucius would make note of my absence, as would Dumbledore undoubtedly.

"And what of all the things you would have done in the future, all the people you would have met and affected in years to come? Will you deprive them of your presence?"

I laughed humourlessly; this boy was really grasping at non-existent straws.

"Deprive them of my hate? My bitterness? They would be better off without me."

The boy opened his mouth in protest.

"And even if I was able to influence countless lives in a positive way, as you are suggesting, it would not be worth the years of pain," I continued, speaking loudly over him.

My words appeared to affect him; apparently he needed the reminder that to continue living would be a struggle and would negatively influence those around me. "I suppose so," he eventually agreed. "The happiness of others is not worth your sanity."

"I am not capable of providing anyone with happiness," I told him with certainty; I have no joy to give.

"Mmm perhaps, but that does not mean you would not be important to them- that you wouldn't have a purpose in their lives," he reasoned with me.

"I would only make them_ miserable_." _Not that I would care._

"Or you may keep them _alive_; you could save others even though you couldn't save _her_."

"What are you suggesting?" I asked him suspiciously; what did he know of my ability to save others?

"That every human life has a purpose."

"If that were so, then Lily's was to die because of my mistake. What is the purpose of that?"

"I am certain the purpose of her life was not to die at your hand- perhaps her purpose was fulfilled before her death?" the boy suggested mysteriously, his eyes twinkling in the dim lights of the bar.

"Be silent!" I snapped at him, as a twinge in my stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol I had consumed gave me the feeling this boy knew something I did not.

I had expected my outburst to silence him for a moment, but it seemed to perpetuate his resolve to convince me of something I did not believe.

"So is your purpose to die tonight? Is that why you were born? To destroy her and then kill yourself?" he yelled at me. As I begun to answer him, I heard an exclamation from outside, though I could not hear it over my own shouting.

"Yes, what else have I done with my life?" I demanded of him, my body shaking with rage and remorse.

"Are you incapable of seeing the potential good you have done? To love someone as you do- you cannot be as evil or as uncaring as you claim to be!"

"I do not know what you believe you understand about me, but I demand you to stop! You know nothing of my life or hers- do not make assumptions about what it is like to be _me_!" I screamed at him, my body still shaking, and my breathing rapid as I tried to calm myself down. I could feel the alcohol making me warm as it surged through my body, pushing me to fight this boy

The boy was about to retort my exclamation, when we heard a sound from outside. However, it was barely audible, but the boy, who was closer to the door seemed to hear it and tilted his head slightly in its direction. Almost instantaneously his face relaxed, but the way he rubbed his temples with his fingers told me he was still in distress by what I had said or the failure of his mission, whatever that might have been.

I watched him closely, wondering if I had finally managed to convince him to stop fighting for the life I did not want to live. He closed his eyes and took a single breath, and I knew he was trying to calm himself down. I felt he no longer wanted to yell at me, and I was grateful because it had given me a pounding headache.

Eventually he opened his eyes, and he stared at me, his gaze unwavering.

"Do you believe in fortune tellers?"

"Yes," I told him immediately before I considered what I was admitting to or why he was asking. _Of course I believe in Seers, one of them is the reason why I'm in this situation. The prophecy was fulfilled as she predicted: the Dark Lord is dead, even if it cost three lives. No, nothing would be worth her life, not even His._

My response seemed to relieve him, and his body became less tense as he continued.

"My sister has the ability to see the future of those around her," he explained, and then paused as he used his eyes to scan my face and my body. Then the boy sighed.

"I came into this pub tonight to try to change your mind. I see I have failed," he spoke gently, and in some strange way, his downcast eyes and pained expression told me he was upset by his failure.

But my questioning his strange demeanor was short-lived because soon I realized what this meant; he was manipulating me. I felt my blood boil once again.

"Ever since you walked in here you have been lying to me," I stated plainly, knowing he could not deny it. Everything he said about his own crimes was an attempt to change my mind.

The boy looked at me with a hard expression, and for a moment I thought I saw his eyes darken as if he was not the god-like creature I originally felt he was, but a demon.

"No, I was not lying to you. I hoped my personal experiences would have provoked you to see there are other options than ending your life."

"Says the attractive kid who got away with killing eight people!" I snapped at him, my arm stretched out as I gestured to his person. I did not stop to consider why he killed those people or how he managed to escape from punishment. In my mind, however, I knew he was too young to be sentenced to years in an adult jail, so either he escaped, was not truly at fault, or he was pardoned of his crime. I came to the conclusion that he had a female judge who was too superficial, too caught up in his appearance to see the demon within.

Faster than I could see, the boy took a couple of steps towards me. I almost fell off my stool and it clattered to the ground, but I managed to stumble away from him, feeling scared by the dark look in his eyes. Apparently, he did not like being thought of as attractive. I needed to change the subject before I withdrew my wand in self-defense.

"Why didn't your sister come in here to tell me this?" I asked him hastily, hoping this was a sufficient distraction.

Thinking about his sister seemed to snap him out of his advancing on me. He stood roughly two meters in front of me and answered my question.

"She wanted to, but I would not let her because I knew you would most likely be drunk. I didn't want her to get hurt."

"Well please do thank her for wanting to inform me that my suicide plan will be a success," I told him sarcastically. "I could not have foreseen that."

I was expecting the boy to start yelling at me for my rudeness, but instead he said:

"Your future was not the one she saw."

"Then whose was it?" I asked, trying not to sound shaken by this new piece of information.

"Your neighbours'," he informed me, indicating with his hands to the street behind him. "Their future is that of slavery and severe punishment-"

"That is not my concern-"

Although the bartender had remained silent and stationary for almost an hour, he moved now, and I knew he wanted to interrupt; perhaps he was concerned that he was one of these future slaves?

"_This_ became their future only when you changed the means of ending your life," the boy told me pointedly, his eyes lit up with determination.

I stared at him: how could he know that? His sister must have a tremendous ability to see the intricate nature of the future. She could be famous with a gift like that… and she was wasting it on me.

"Somehow _you_ were the difference between their freedom and their capture," he continued, and I knew this was the last ploy he possessed that could change my mind. I was not buying it.

"That is impossible- you are lying."

The boy's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I promise you I am not. I speak the truth. However you may perceive your life, there must be something good in you- something good you do in the future that spares these people from a terrible existence!" he shouted at me. I looked into his eyes and wondered how much detail his sister had told him; it was almost as if he had seen the suffering himself. Clearly, he was losing his patience with me.

"Their lives are not worth my own. I will not continue to live in this _Hell_ in the hope that one day I could help people I don't even know. Besides, you are likely wrong; slavery is a thing of the past." I argued with him.

He studied me carefully, his eyes narrowed as if he were searching my mind. "You know of whom I speak- you know who has the capacity to place these people into slavery and torture them!"

_What? What is he implying? _My immediate thought was the Dark Lord. _What exactly had his sister seen? Wizards? Death Eaters? _

This time I do reach into my pocket for my wand; he could not be allowed to remember whatever his sister told him, though of course erasing his memory would be useless when his sister could simply remind him again. The boy eyed my hand in my pocket, and slowly he began to walk slowly towards the door.

"He's dead," I hissed at him, keeping my hand in my robes, wondering whether he will know to whom I was referring… how much did he know about my world?

"Are you sure?" he challenged me as he continued to inch towards the door, his body crouched down slightly as if preparing to flee. Did he truly believe the Dark Lord was still alive? Had his sister seen this too?

Consequently, his question gave me pause, but then I remembered the scene in Godric's Hollow; the Dark Lord was nowhere to be seen. "Of course he's dead!"

"And if he isn't? What if you are wrong?"

"I could not care less," I told him, knowing how incredibly selfish I sounded.

The boy looked at me carefully, and I could see in his eyes that he thought I was the pathetic one now, unable to live to save the lives of many others.

"Grief is painful," he acknowledged as he moved closer towards the exit. "I can see how much you miss her. Death would be the easier way out. I understand that." The boy then sighed, his eyes still locked on mine. "I wanted you to know that your life will be worth something to many, even if they do not know it. But you know it now. Do not take your life unless you are certain it is not worth living. Please," he begged of me, his voice resuming its musical quality.

His words hit me like a tonne of bricks. Was he actually asking me to be selfless? He didn't understand- this was not a choice I made- it was the _only_ choice left to me.

"I have no choice!" I shout at him.

"You do," he insisted, his voice still maintaining its musical quality; was he trying to manipulate me again?

"No, you do _not_ understand!" I cried back feeling pathetic as my voice wavered. "I cannot live like this!" I scream at him, tears prickling my eyes.

"Please, try," the boy begged of me, and I noticed his eyes had a shiny quality to them.

_Why is he so upset? _I wondered, interpreting his glistening eyes as tears. But before I could question him further, the boy forced himself to leave the pub. I had the distinct feeling it was difficult for him to go. Angry and upset at being provoked and then left in this way, I strode quickly to the window, but I could not see him; he had disappeared. I turned around to see the bartender watching me closely. In his eyes, I saw my own uncertainties and questions reflected there. At first, I had thought the child was there to make friends, to talk his night away. And later, he appeared to be manipulating my emotions in an attempt to save me from myself, so I could save others, perhaps people _he_ loved who lived in Spinner's End. And now, the image of his face, his saddened expression had me wondering if he was there to help _me_. My clouded mind could not comprehend what his motive was, and I was too tired to analyse our conversation. One way or another this person cared, and as much as it pained me to admit it, I wished I cared too.

Minutes later I left the bar. Neither the bartender nor I had exchanged words after the departure of that strange boy. Nevertheless, I had no doubt we both were thinking about him and the mysterious air that surrounded his person. I knew I had nothing to live for, and somehow I felt he personally understood that too- what it meant to have nothing, and how it feels to be so empty. But how could he? What were his intentions that night? Was he truly speaking with me in the hope of changing the future his sister had seen? Or did he have another agenda? One I could not detect through my drunken state?

As I made my way home, I remembered how the boy would suddenly appear dangerous, terrifying, and then just as quickly return to possessing a god-like quality. His emotions seemed intense and powerful, and I knew I would never understand what was happening for that kid during the hour we shared. As I walked, I made the painful realization that I would never know the truth regarding this boy; he would always remain a mystery. I had unwillingly confided my deepest feelings to this stranger… this would be the final memory of my life.

And I didn't even know his name.

XXXXXXX

Author's note: I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I hope to have Edward's POV posted up within a week or two. It will probably be longer than this chapter as I will need to account for his feelings, as well as the Cullens' and even the bartender's. It will be an exciting chapter to write! Thank you so very much for reading! I sooooo appreciate it Please remember to comment and let me know your thoughts! You know how much I love hearing from you all! Until next time, take care :)


	5. Chapter 4: The other choice

Author's note: Welcome back to 'Leave Me'. I apologise profusely for not updating this story in the last few months- real life (i.e. uni) got in the way and I was extremely busy. However, I am back on board and hope to update one of my stories weekly-fortnightly until the end of February.

Thank you so much for being patient- you have no idea how much I appreciate it :)

Anyway, as you will hopefully recall, the previous chapter described the conversation that took place between Severus and Edward in the bar in Spinner's End (Severus' POV of course- see 'A life worth living' for Edward's POV).

Anyway, here's what happened next….

Enjoy! And please remember to vote and comment when you're done!

'Leave Me'

Chapter 4- The other choice

Severus' POV

My vision went in and out of focus as I stared at the forest green liquid simmering in the cauldron in front of me.

_How long have I been standing here? _I wondered. I craned my neck to my left to look at the clock on the wall.

10:20pm. Twenty minutes since I had arrived home- twenty minutes I was alive when I could have been dead.

My body swayed dangerously, my vision still blurry and out of focus. I grabbed onto the table my cauldron was sitting on to prevent myself from falling over.

Forcing my body upright, I took two deep breaths; my head was heavy and I felt dizzy.

I tried to contemplate why, after twenty minutes, I had yet to consume the green poison.

_Why?_

Somehow through my drunken haze I knew why; that _kid _placed doubt in my mind. Doubt I did not want or need; my life, or rather the end of it was going smoothly until he entered the bar.

For twenty minutes I had been staring blankly at the liquid in front of me as my mind willingly dissociated from the torture my body was inflicting on me. Every instinct was begging me to drink it- _anything_ to escape this Hell, but the rational part of my brain which was slow and murky due to the alcohol I had consumed kept pushing me to reconsider.

_What did the boy say? _I tried to recall. The energy required to remember even that much induced another bout of dizziness.

This time, I fell to the floor; my grip on the table had slipped and I was too intoxicated to keep my balance. My right cheek slammed onto the cool tile along with my shoulder.

"Argh," I moaned. Taking deep breaths so I would remain conscious, I dragged myself towards my living room- to a lounge.

I used my left arm to pull my intoxicated body along the ground, and then hauled myself onto the closest couch. Once there, I immediately lay down on my left side so I was facing the fire place.

I felt tired- so tired. I had never been so intoxicated or exhausted in my life.

My right temple was pounding thanks to my clumsiness and I could barely stay conscious.

Perhaps this is how I would die?

But even in this state, I knew I would not; it would take a lot more than alcohol and a head injury to kill even me.

_No, this won't kill me, but falling unconscious is a possibility._

As if on command, my brain felt like it was trying to shut down, protecting itself from all I had experienced that night. I desperately wanted to escape it too; Lily's face, her house, that boy in the pub and his tear filled eyes.

I grunted in frustration. All I wanted was to take my life without hesitation and without regret. That boy had voided me of that possibility. This much I knew for certain.

Unfortunately, I could not recall exactly what he said that convinced me that perhaps my plan would have negative consequences, which would thus prevent from me leaving this life peacefully.

I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled through my mouth. Gritting my teeth together, I turned onto my back so I could assess my injuries. My right cheek was slightly swollen, and a bruise was developing on the tender point of my shoulder. If I had the energy I would use my wand to erase any evidence of my injuries, but I was too tired and weak to do so.

I sighed and then rested my left hand over my chest.

I could feel my heart beating underneath my palm. To anyone else it would have felt like a normal heartbeat, a normal heart, but to me, I could feel it tearing as I lay there contemplating my death. I clenched my hand so my fingers wrapped around my robes. I barely realised what I was doing- I suppose it was an instinct; to hold onto something when one is in pain.

I closed my eyes to help my mind ignore my surroundings; I had a decision to make and I needed to focus. All I could feel was my hand resting on the slow rise and fall of my chest and the pulsing of my blood as it rushed through my neck.

For a second I was at peace. I was able to ignore the incredible weight on my chest that felt like someone was sitting on my diaphragm trying to suffocate me. I could even escape the way in which my fingers gripped at my heart in mockery of the vice that I felt wanted to squeeze all the love I had out of me so I would no longer need to suffer.

But then, her wide green eyes stared at me from beneath my lids.

"Ah!" I gasped, opening my eyes immediately. Still holding onto my chest, I tried to calm myself down by taking deep breaths once again.

Apparently, I could not find peace even when I was severely intoxicated, and my mind and body were depleted of energy.

I was not permitted to be free of this agony, perhaps even in death.

Lily, and what I had done to her, would stay with me forever.

I slowly sat up. The alcohol in my stomach sloshed around violently and made me feel nauseous. Evidently I did not move slowly enough.

I groaned, holding my stomach carefully as I bent over my knees.

I swallowed convulsively determined not to vomit on the floor.

_Why did I do this to myself? _I wondered, envisaging the numerous bourbons I had consumed over the last two hours.

_Because you wanted to escape your pain, _my twisted mind answered me.

_Well a lot of good that did, _I moaned as I placed both of my hands on the couch behind me so I could push myself into a standing position. _Now you feel ill, your head can't think straight, your memory is hazy, and you still feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, _I criticised myself.

_You would have been better off staying at home- at least you could have died in peace, and that boy could not have interfered in your solitude._

_Unfortunately __I__ am not the one gifted with foresight, _I answered myself bitterly.

When the nausea subsided, I allowed myself to stand upright. My head felt heavy again, and this time, the sensation coincided with an image of the boy.

_Please, try, _he had begged me. I recalled his eyes brimming with tears, and even though I was intoxicated I knew they were a genuine indicator of his feelings.

But the kid did not understand that I _was_ trying. Perhaps if one of the eight people he killed was the love of his life, he would understand what I meant and what I was going through.

I swayed precariously on my feet as my mind recalled what that boy had done- what he had said about maintaining 'balance' in the world or some other nonsense.

_It doesn't matter, _I told myself, attempting to push his words aside. _Even if he were right, it would not be possible for me to survive this. I am weak without her, and of no use to anyone._

Having made my decision, I took purposeful steps back towards my study. Each time I placed my foot down, I ensured I could balance before moving the other. I continued to take regular breaths so my brain had enough oxygen. As I moved, I held onto the walls, every sturdy item of furniture I could grasp to ensure I did not fall over again. When I entered my study, I used my wand to extinguish the flame from beneath the cauldron.

The smell of the poison had begun to envelope the room- clearly it had been simmering for longer than required. However, I knew it would not interfere with the concoction's effectiveness. Although I had never witnessed another consume the poison, I had made this error once before.

"_Are you certain this will result in their immediate death, Severus?"_

I swayed on my feet. I gripped one of the shelves to my left as the Dark Lord's voice hissed in my mind.

"_Yes, my Lord. A tablespoon of this and they will be dead instantly," _I had replied.

"_It reeks," _he commented, his face morphing into one of disgust.

"_I apologise my Lord, I was called elsewhere for a time, so it was over brewed. However, the book here," _I had said pointing to the Dark Arts volume I had in front of me, _"says brewing for up to 5 hours will have no affect on its effectiveness. In fact it will be more efficient if anything."_

"_Excellent," _the Dark Lord grinned. His long hands then extended towards me as he grabbed the vial to my left and siphoned the liquid into it using his wand.

"_Store the rest for later," _he ordered me, before leaving headquarters.

I never knew who consumed the poison I had brewed two years previously, but the Dark Lord assured me it worked as instantaneously as the Killing Curse. At that time he was attempting to keep a low profile, so needed to find another way of murdering those who disappointed him.

The memory made me feel ill. Without realising, I had stumbled towards the cauldron and leaned over it for support. The fumes were rising from the substance and wafting into my nostrils.

I gagged three times before I had the sense to step away. I bent over my stomach hoping such an action would reduce the intensity of the stench. It also meant I had a shorter distance to fall if I were to pass out.

How could the victims not smell this liquid in their drinks? Perhaps mixed with alcohol would be the only cover. Either way, with its forest green colouring and putrid stench, it was not an effective poison for one such as the Dark Lord. But by some miracle he had never complained about it, probably because he was able to fool or force his victims to drink it regardless.

Thankfully, I did not experience dizziness this time, and without the fumes drifting through my body, my stomach calmed significantly. I made my way to the armchair that sat in my study and gratefully sank into it. I then withdrew my wand and summoned the empty vial to my outstretched hand.

Previously, I had not considered using magic to deliver the concoction into the vial; I was certain I would be far too intoxicated to manage it without spilling. However, my head ached and I was growing drowsier by the minute; I needed to consume it before I suffered any more misery in my pathetic life.

Using the appropriate charm, I watched as the green liquid apparently flew through the air towards my outstretched hand which held the vial. Both of my arms were shaking. I held the liquid in mid air until I was certain I could safely lead it into the glass bottle.

_Focus, Severus, _I encouraged myself. _It will be over soon._

I squinted my eyes in concentration as I slowly moved the now warm liquid into the vessel from which I would drink it.

With satisfaction I watched as the entire one tablespoon of poison sloshed safely into the vial.

Although I had every intention to drink it immediately, I used my wand to cork the top instantly to ensure none went to waste and to prevent the smell from enveloping me again. I then flicked my wand towards the cauldron which began to wash itself clean of that disgusting smell.

An instant later, I was thankful that the vial was sealed; a wave of nausea came over me as my headache spread to the left side of my brain. In response, one hand, the one holding the vial went to my left temple, whilst the other rested on my stomach.

_What is happening to me? _I demanded of myself, feeling shaken; I had never been this intoxicated before. I felt ill, and somehow I knew it would remain for some time. The bile in the pit of my stomach tumbled around telling me that the alcohol had finally taken a physical toll on me.

I groaned and leant forward in my chair so my head could rest in the palms of my hands.

I continued to take deep breaths through my nose and out through my mouth; this method seemed to work best with my delicate stomach and it calmed my anxiety.

I used this moment of reprieve to focus on what I needed to do: uncork the vial and tip the liquid down my throat. Swallow. Simple.

However, the unease I felt in the very pit of my stomach, which had nothing to do with the alcohol was telling me it was _not_ so simple.

Death was the only plausible option I _knew_ of, yet it had sadly not escaped my conscience's notice that another choice may be available to me. That _boy_ most certainly thought there was another option, not that he was offering the specifics to me. Instead, he seemed to believe that trying to live with this agony would actually be of _benefit_ to someone.

I snorted; he was most certainly wrong about that.

I was quite able to recall everything he said that reflected how _little_ he understood of my situation. Nevertheless, I was certain he knewmore than he should have.

I had presumed that he and his sister were Muggles, in which case, both of them could be dangerous to the Magical World due to their knowing how the future of human civilisation seemed to rest in the Dark Lord's hands.

_It's no longer my problem, _I reassured myself; the repercussions that boy may have on the secrecy of our world could not affect me if I was not alive to witness it.

I took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.

_This is my life. I know I cannot live like this anymore. This is the only choice I am willing to make._

I raised the vial, my body slouched over in exhaustion, as I silently wished my neighbours a free life, like the one I was about to embark on.

I uncorked the vial and watched myself bring the forest green liquid towards my lips.

A pale face with bright honey coloured eyes and shocking bronze hair appeared before me- the 'angelic' persona of the boy I had seen in the pub less than two hours ago.

_Please, try, _his image said to me again, an echo of the words he had uttered as his final plea.

I slowly lowered my arm so the vial was now at waist level.

_Try to what? _I demanded of him in my head. _Try to live? I __told __you I cannot live like this! I would be no use to anyone; Lily is dead as are her family and the- the Dark Lord…_

I slowly bent over my knees, my mind struggling to make sense of why my resolve had suddenly become shaky. I placed the vial carefully on the small table to my left, and then used both of my hands to rub circles on my temples.

_Why does that not feel right? _I asked myself, my confusion further clouding my mind. Various images were floating through my lethargic brain, but none of them registered as significant to me.

Then I saw the boy's face, his eyes were narrowed at me, his eyebrows raised, his head tilted to the left as if he doubted my words. What had I said to engender that reaction from him?

_Think, _I pushed my mind. _What did that look mean? What was I talking about?_

I closed my eyes tightly in an attempt to focus as I searched through my aching mind for the answer.

"_Her child and husband are dead," _I had said.

And that was when he raised his eyebrows at me.

How dare he? He was not the one who walked into the destruction that was their house. He did not see Lily's hard, cold body- he did not see…

He did not see Potter's dead body... And neither had I; I merely assumed the flesh I stumbled upon belonged to Potter, but I did not reveal his corpse. But of their son, I saw no trace of.

I held my head in my hands, feeling slightly dizzy even though I was sitting down.

That was when I realised I had no _proof_ of their deaths, except knowing their murderer; the Dark Lord would not have allowed the child to remain alive, of that I was certain. And as for Potter, he would not have stood aside when Lily was in danger. As much I hated and despised the man for the way he treated me and for marrying the woman I love, I knew at least _that_ about him. But _perhaps_ Potter could still be alive…

I clenched my jaw and rested my forehead in my hands.

_Did I even care?_

_For James Potter who made my school career a humiliating and depressing experience? Hell, no. But could I care for Lily's husband, who she loved…_

I moaned, my forehead pounding against my palms. I was not in a state of mind to decide what I cared about when I was barely holding onto my _own_ life.

But my mind could not discount the possibility until I thought it through.

I sighed; how could I have forgotten that boy's expression when I mentioned that they were dead? And if he was right, my mind could barely contemplate _how_ he could have possibly known.

My brain seemed to swell under the multiple questions in my mind, and I struggled with how much I wanted a straight answer; why couldn't this choice be simple? Why couldn't the alcohol turn off my conscience and let me do what my body was screaming at me to do?

I sighed loudly. Not even taking my life was simple; that kid and my conscience _had_ to work against me and every instinct I possessed.

Some aspect of my being continued to recall the uncertainty the boy placed in my mind with that expression of his, but why did it require so much effort to remember the specifics? I was certain it was not due to my head injury as I also had no recollection of it prior to falling over…

_What did those bourbons do to me_? I wondered.

I tried to remember what happened after the boy left my presence.

I slowly sat up straighter in the armchair in my study and faced forward; my eyes would have appeared to be staring into space.

_He left quickly,_ I recalled; _he probably wanted to escape the misery that was my life or perhaps he had given up on me._

_I did warn him._

In leaving, the kid left me with the bartender. Prior to his arrival, I would have been content with this, but after he spoke about the future and my supposed influence on the well-being of my home town, what was I supposed to say to the middle-aged Muggle who could not begin to comprehend the significance of what the boy said if he was right?

The bartender even had the nerve to ask me what I was going to do about it.

"I do not know," I had told him honestly.

He nodded calmly, but I could see fear etched in the lines of his face.

"Do you know what he was talking about?" he asked me, clearly as confused as I felt when I originally heard the boy's cryptic warning and plea.

_Yes, _I acknowledged to myself, because I did understand what the boy was implying, I was simply unwilling to believe something so preposterous.

But instead, I said to the man: "What he said is impossible- I'm certain."

"But he seemed to think-"

"He was wrong!" I insisted viciously. _He could __not__ be right._

"What if he wasn't?" the bartender insisted softly; he could tell I was becoming irritated and volatile.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "He _was_," I asserted dangerously.

"So you won't 'try' like he begged you to?"

I looked into the man's brown eyes and I could tell under normal circumstances he would have been a kind, permissive man who generally kept out of people's personal lives. However, I was certain his persistence extended beyond fears for his own welfare. I concluded he lived with loved ones, perhaps a wife and children; he cared for their safety above all else.

His reminder of the boy's emotive persistence to 'try' was when it happened… I remember closing my eyes briefly in that moment; I could not deal with this, and suddenly my body felt eerily numb. I slowly eased myself off the barstool and landed wobbling onto my feet. Without the threat of the boy and only the hopeful confusion of the bartender, I allowed myself to relax- the adrenaline left my system, and I gave in to the alcohol.

I staggered home, frequently having to pause and hold on to a street lamp or something equally as ridiculous just to keep my balance. I literally stumbled down the street as intoxicated as I have ever been. I could barely see or even think- my legs forced me forward automatically towards the only thing that could provide me with freedom, which was _still_ sitting in a vial rather than in my stomach…

And this was the result: repressed memories of what had happened; every aspect of the last few hours that implicated I had a responsibility had been buried in the depths of my mind.

I could have continued to let the alcohol drive my behaviour, and ignore the nagging feeling that taking my life was not the only or even the best choice I had available to me.

But my conscience would allow it no longer.

Despite my tremendous doubts about the whole thing, I could no longer ignore the extreme worry exhibited both by the boy and the bartender. Even my broken, shredded heart could not dismiss how clearly theirs wanted me to 'try'- whatever that _actually _meant.

If I decided _not _to 'try' and take my life like I had planned, what would the future of the Muggle race look like? I tried to imagine what the boy's sister must have seen: lines of Muggles chained- forced to do the Dark Lord's bidding either by physical or magical force. Tortured… screaming by means of the Cruciatus Curse. Imperio and Crucio: perfect weapons the Dark Lord would use should he control our world.

I rubbed the back of my neck remembering how Crucio felt when I had been victim of it once.

I shivered; I had no doubt the Dark Lord would use these magical weapons against Muggles… _if_ he were still alive to do so. And for such treatment to be 'legal' the rest of the Wizarding World would have been forced to succumb to his ways.

How couldI _change_ that? What use could I possibly be? Even if I were to resist him, I would simply end up dead, as would anyone else who was foolish enough to stand in his way.

I shook my head in confusion. With each shake, my brain felt like it was hitting my skull, so I stopped moving and held my head for a moment.

There was no point in pondering over it and forcing my mind to analyse a situation that was far beyond my capacity at the time; the Dark Lord was dead… he _had_ to be.

I grunted in agitation.

_What was that kid thinking suggesting something so ridiculous in public?_

And even if he were right, how could his sister know so much? Her gift of foresight is more potent than a Seer's without a doubt. Even the most advanced Muggle psychics did not rival our Seers, but to be able to see how the future can change on the whims of the choices of others is… extraordinary.

In my drunken state, I had difficulty grasping it; I believed the most advanced Seer's could make predictions and prophecies, but the boy spoke as if what he said was fact.

_Fact!?_

_It couldn't be…_

I cannot protect my entire town from the Dark Lord- such a notion is preposterous. And I most certainly will not play any part in resurrecting him from wherever he may be. There _must_ be some mistake- someone else had the 'power' to deal with this- to make a difference, not me.

Resolved that there was some error, I rose from my chair and grabbed the vial from the table. My mind was exhausted- sick of philosophising and contemplating possibilities that seemed pointless to consider. As I uncorked the small bottle again, the boy's voice rang in my head:

_Don't let her death go to waste._

Unbidden was a vivid image of Lily's face from when she was still alive- the final memory I had of her before she died.

I gasped in shock and agony, the contents of my stomach moving queasily through me.

_She died for nothing! _I argued with the boy's voice in my head. _I cannot trust you; I cannot live what would be an agonising life under the delusion that the Dark Lord will return and I can __stop__ him._

_This is ridiculous._

I moved the vial to my mouth, but my hand was shaking violently.

_What? _I asked of myself, fed up with my indecision and my conscience.

_What if he was right?_

It was a thought I had had multiple times that night. With the means of my death in one hand however, I needed to consider the possibility despite how weary my mind was- how desperately I wished to sleep.

I could not rid my stomach of the uneasy feeling that not only was the boy correct, but he knew something I did not. I was certain he was not a wizard, but somehow he knew about the magical world and knew enough about Lily, the Dark Lord, and me…

Naturally this continued to nag at me in the back of my mind.

What if Potter or their son were still alive?

What if the Dark Lord still lived?

I carefully placed the vial back on the table, my hands still shaking slightly. Grabbing onto my bookcase and then the door frame, I assisted my body back towards the living room and the kitchen.

I grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it haphazardly with water. I slowly drank it in sips, not wanting to upset my stomach further. Once I had drained it, I placed the glass in the sink. Then, feeling half blind and incapable of walking straight, I made my way to the bathroom.

I placed my hands on either side of the sink and slowly raised my head to stare into the mirror.

I looked terrible: pale and sickly. My eyes were bloodshot: the result of intoxication and sleep deprivation, and my lids were partially closed; I could barely keep them open.

I carefully removed my hands from the basin, turned on the tap and cupped by hands beneath the water. The cool temperature was calming to my skin and distracted me from the agonising fire growing within my body. I then raised the handful of water and splashed it onto my face. It felt refreshing, and by some miracle, I felt slightly more alert. I repeated this process twice more, droplets of water falling down my face. Without wiping my face dry, thinking its cool temperature would continue to energise me, I made my way back towards the living room and the lounge I had previously taken refuge on.

Once I sat down, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then recalling why I even bothered to revive myself with the cool water, I gently rested my head in my hands; hating the two questions that were nagging at me in the back of my drunken, clouded mind.

_If _Potter and/or their son were still alive, and _if _I could assist them somehow, would I?

_If _the Dark Lord was alive in some form and had the potential to enslave others in years to come, and if I _was _the means of preventing such dominion, would I be willing to spare my own life?

I ran my fingers through my hair, my nails scratching at the surface of my scalp to remind myself of the present while I focused so intently on the future.

_Damn it_, I hissed; my answer was 'yes'… to both questions.

I would be willing to live- for her.

But how could I know whether these 'ifs' would one day be a reality? No one could possibly know this; there was no way of guaranteeing the future… was there?

If I felt well enough, I would have been pacing. Generally such movement helped my mind to think more clearly. Unfortunately, I was in no shape to expend the little energy I had. Instead I found myself rocking gently, my palms pressed to my eyes as I tried to remain focused on the two questions before me rather than the mounting pain in my head and in my heart.

Did this boy even realise the predicament he put me in? It would have been so easy to end my life tonight- I was ready, and willing. But now I cannot live or die in peace; he had trapped me.

Somehow I think he knew that I would not want to leave this earth if there was something I could do for Lily. And he was right; I would do anything to even partially redeem myself in Lily's eyes.

Eventually, my mind became clearer; I knew what I needed to do. If anyone knew what happened to the Potters and the Dark Lord, it would be Dumbledore.

_Dumbledore, _I shivered. The memory from the last time I met with him still gave me chills.

How would I explain what happened?

'A strange kid impeded on my privacy when I was contemplating my suicide. He told me that when I decided to drink poison, his sister saw the future change. Apparently if I died, the Muggles living in Spinner's End would be enslaved by the Dark Lord.' That would not go down well for numerous reasons, not to mention the conversation that would likely follow regarding the secrecy of our world being in jeopardy. If there are psychics out there who can see the future of the Wizarding World the Ministry would need to know, and I was not in a place to testify to what had happened.

In any case, no one was in a position to erase the boy's memory, and without knowing his name or his sister's, it would be difficult to find them. Somehow I knew I would never see the boy again; his almost instant disappearance was an indicator of that. He seemed to be sorry though, but given he also admitted to committing multiple offences of manslaughter, I did not know what to make of that kid.

However, the bartender would be easy to track down; his memory would need to be erased; he heard too much last night and I did not want him to attempt to alter the future of the Muggles in Spinner's End. Who knows what he would try to do? What if he told someone what he had heard? Told his wife or kids? This could be complicated…

What was that boy thinking talking so openly in that manner with a Muggle around? But perhaps he knew nothing would come of it? What if his sister knew through her foresight that the bartender would not tell anyone? I sighed; the implications of this girl's gift were tremendous.

Finally I knew what I needed to do. At least if I spoke to Albus and he informed me that I (and thus the boy) was suggesting something quite impossible, my conscience may let me consume the poison. I would have to wait until tomorrow to speak with him; only then would I know my fate.

Having finally made a decision after almost one hour of agonising contemplation, I placed the bottle of poison on the shelf in my study. I then walked to my desk and pulled a piece of parchment from my top drawer.

_Dear Albus, _I scrawled with the quill sitting on my desk.

_I wish to seek counsel with you regarding the events that took place at Godric's Hollow tonight._

_I will be available to meet any time tomorrow (i.e. 1st of November)._

_Please let me know by return owl when and where you would like to meet._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape_

I stood up from my desk and slowly walked towards the only window in my study. I wrenched open the glass, the pane screeching as it moved.

My owl, who seems to know when I want to send a letter, flew down and perched itself on the windowsill with its right leg sticking out.

"Please deliver this to Albus Dumbledore," I whispered in case a Muggle happened to be within earshot. I then tied the rolled up parchment onto its leg.

The owl hooted at me and then flew north.

I then closed the window and immediately made my way to my bedroom.

I did not bother removing my robes or showering. I had had enough of contemplating, of thinking, of _functioning._

I needed to put the day's events out of my mind.

I reassured my body that the poison was still an option, and perhaps this time tomorrow, I would be dead. But that option was on hold for the time being until I had the opportunity to speak with Dumbledore. My heart thudded feebly against my chest, clearly in protest of the decision my conscience had made on its behalf.

But I needed to know what that boy knew and Albus was my best chance at understanding the implications of his cryptic message. One thing was certain; that boy could _not_ know more than Albus Dumbledore.

However, as I began to drift off to sleep, images intruded into my mind- horrifying images of Lily: her stiff body, her terrified face, her lifeless eyes…

And as each second wore on, the heavy weight on my chest returned and I felt like pins were piercing my heart with each image I saw of her.

_I'm sorry, _I said to myself when I was half conscious. But I was not apologising for what I had done to Lily; there would be little point in that, but for prolonging my own suffering.

_I can survive until tomorrow._

I knew I had to, because as difficult as it was to acknowledge, there was another choice, and I needed to consider it…

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I found it interesting to delve into Severus' mind and attempt to justify his deciding to listen to Edward's plea even though he was suffering so much.

The next chapter will naturally revolve around his upcoming meeting with Dumbledore (Albus will reply to him). However, the next chapter of 'A life worth living' (Edward's POV of the same story) will be written and posted first.

While you're waiting, feel free to check out 'A life worth living', especially the three part chapter that was Edward's version of his conversation with Severus :)

Thanks again for reading! Please share your comments with me; you know how much I love hearing from you guys!


	6. Chapter 5: Memories Part 1

Author's note: Welcome back to 'Leave me'! Thank you all for your patience with updating this story, it means a lot :) I just started working 4 days a week which is why updates are still pretty scarce (unfortunately). I've just got a couple of things to say before we get into this chapter:

This chapter was originally one chapter, but then a pretty cool idea came to me so I needed to split the chapter in half. I will post the second half before updating 'A life worth living' again, so you won't need to wait long.

I also wanted to congratulate one of my readers on , Sweetie7smiled for mentioning to me in the second chapter of 'Leave Me' an inconsistency between this story and canon. Although I felt it wouldn't be an issue at the time, when I re-read the end of 'Prisoner of Azkaban' I realised that the inconsistency _will_ cause me problems later. SO, I have made a _small_ alteration to chapter two of this story. The facts now stand thus: Severus still knows Wormtail is an Animagus, but instead of attributing this to the Marauders teaching him how to transform, he now assumes that Wormtail learnt after leaving Hogwarts (by what means, he is unsure). Therefore, Severus does _not_ know that James and Sirius were also Animagi.

Sorry for continuing to make minor changes every now and then!

As for this chapter, it was quite a complex one to write, mainly because the Fidelius Charm is, as I have discovered, quite complicated to explain, especially when you consider all of the possibilities that could happen to the location, the Secret Keeper, and those being protected. Anyway, I hope my version of things fits in with your understanding (as there are inconsistent facts throughout the books)! Various portions of this chapter was taken from canon (DH- The Prince's Tale), however as you will discover the dialogue and the tone of those scenes are quite different in my story :)

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Happy reading!

'Leave Me'

Chapter 5- Memories

Severus' POV

_Why do I continue to do this to myself?_

My heart was pounding against my chest. I lit my wand and scanned the area around me. A cool autumn breeze brushed against my face. I looked in the direction of the wind wondering if this was a natural occurrence or suggestive of Albus Dumbledore's arrival.

It had been weeks since I had last been here: the hilltop in the middle of nowhere. It was so isolated, with only a small town at the base of the mound that Albus needed to provide me with co-ordinates just so I could find the place. Nevertheless, it was an ideal private location for our original meeting, one that few humans could reach without the assistance of magic. In addition, Albus did not want to be seen communicating with a known Death Eater, and of course, I did not want to be caught in the presence of Albus Dumbledore.

Although I knew our relationship had altered slightly since that time, it still erred me to be up here, in the dark, waiting for him once again.

For the countless time, I twisted towards a misplaced sound which came from somewhere over my shoulder: the snapping of a twig. I lifted my wand in the direction of the noise, and was tempted to stun the rabbit that hopped quickly towards its burrow. I could not allow myself to remain distracted, so I refocused my senses on the other unusual sounds around me: some horrid distant music from the town below; the wind rushing past my ears; the creaking of branches belonging to the tremendous trees above me, and the hooting of an owl perched on one of the boughs.

And still no sign of Dumbledore.

I estimated that he was bordering being late.

Albus' response to my owl was still clutched in my hand despite receiving it at 5am that morning. Gently, I opened the parchment and read the note for the fifth time since I received it.

_Meet me in the same location as our original meeting at 9 o'clock this evening._

_Yours sincerely,_

_APWBD_

For a moment I feared I had returned to a different hill; they all looked frustratingly similar at night. I briefly studied the environment around me; would I be able to recognise anything up here?

_Yes, I am definitely in the correct location_, I was able to conclude; I recognised the silhouette of the tallest tree, and the cross atop the small church in the town below. I was briefly reassured that I was in the correct place, but Albus' whereabouts was still a mystery to me.

As I continued to wait, my hypervigilance increased. This, in combination with my constant turning towards all sources of sound brought back similar sensations to those I associated with meeting Albus for the first time as a Death Eater.

I remembered Albus' disgust as he watched me beg for Lily's life; he was repulsed that I cared nothing for Potter or their son. It angered me that Dumbledore believed Potter deserved my consideration; Albus _knew_ how he treated me when we were at Hogwarts, but the young child I suppose was innocent and deserved to be spared just as Lily did.

I was desperate when I spoke with Albus at that time; _anything _to protect Lily. Turning spy for Albus and lying to the Dark Lord with Occlumency as my only defence- nothing was too high a price to pay for Lily's life. I was incredibly _naïve _to believe that she was safe. How could I have trusted the Dark Lord to be merciful? As if he would give up trying to find the boy who could one day destroy him? I was a fool… and so was Albus.

Now frustrated with myself, and disappointed in Albus, a wizard who I believed could do anything, I again wondered where my supposed companion was; I felt he was not the type who made it a habit of being late.

I glimpsed at his brief note again even though I could perfectly recite it after my first reading of it.

_'APWBD'_

None of my previous written correspondences from Dumbledore were signed off in such a way. Perhaps he was in a rush, but even then, surely it did not take him an inordinate amount of time to write even his first and last name? My other explanation was he believed the owl could have been intercepted. Naturally, this had also occurred to me the previous night when I sent him my request, but who would attempt such a thing? A majority of our world was either celebrating the downfall of the Dark Lord (and thus the death of the Potters) or they were Death Eaters hiding from the Ministry. Unlike a majority of the magical population, I was both mourning the loss of a loved one and contemplating the value of my own life when I _should_ be attempting to evade capture for being a Death Eater. I _should _be in hiding; perhaps this is why Albus' letter was so brief and secretive.

Resigned to the fact that Albus was truly late, I exhaled sharply in acceptance. I folded up the parchment and held it safely in my left hand, while I used my wand to survey the area once again.

I started when a tall figure suddenly appeared in front of me.

_Finally._

Although I could only see his silhouette, I knew it was the man I had been waiting for. The instant I saw his face, however, I felt my heart pull painfully in grief; I had trusted this man with Lily's _life_. My stomach churned in repressed anger and disappointment. I successfully hid my feelings from Albus, who was fast approaching me so we could be within hearing distance. As he did before, Albus flicked his wand so the sounds around us were silenced- all I could hear was his voice.

"I apologise for being late, Severus," he said sincerely as we now stood roughly nine feet apart.

I could not find the words to speak, so gave him a single nod.

"Given the recent unfortunate events," he continued more delicately, his face altering to one of sorrow as he shook his head, "I have been busy, though that does not excuse me for being late at present. However, I cannot stay here long as I need to return to Hogwarts. Would you care to accompany me? Or do you feel our discussion will only take a few moments?" he asked.

Considering what had happened the previous night, I knew we would need at least an hour to discuss the potential impact the mysterious boy and his Seer sister may have on our world.

"I will accompany you," I muttered, feeling slightly bitter that I was not simply asked to meet him at Hogwarts. However, I soon realised that providing such a specific location would have given any interceptors of our letters a means of finding me. Considering the evident secrecy in Albus' most recent correspondence, I felt he was trying to prevent my capture at all costs.

"Very well," Albus replied formerly and offered me his arm.

When I looked down at it, my eyebrows rose in surprise; Dumbledore knew I did not require assistance to Apparate. I was torn between feeling insulted and somewhat grateful that so little effort was required of me.

When Albus sensed I had not yet prepared for sidelong Apparation as my hand did not move towards his wrist, he turned to his left and caught my gaze.

I expected him to take this moment to x-ray me, but instead his blue eyes reflected his own sadness and grief. I felt this was the beginning of his apology, or perhaps that is simply what I had hoped.

Giving in to his generosity, or whatever his ulterior motive may be, I held his forearm so he could guide my Apparation- all I had to do was be willing to go with him.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus' POV continued…

Once we arrived in the clearing beyond the Hogwart's boundary, we walked towards the Headmaster's office at a quick pace. As we were walking, Albus quietly said:

"I hope us meeting on that hilltop was not too much of an inconvenience," he partially apologised. "However, considering the Ministry are attempting to find you," Albus paused then to catch my eye, "I did not want my letter to be the means through which they succeeded."

I nodded my head in understanding, but my stomach had sunk significantly; being sent to Azkaban for being a Death Eater was a terrifying prospect. If I were caught, I hoped to be at home where the poison I had brewed was mere steps away. Death was most definitely preferable to Azkaban, and I knew of no one who would disagree with me unless they had someone to live for.

In preparation for my conversation with Albus, I had devised a list of the questions I needed to ask in order to make my final decision. But first, I needed to know _how _the Dark Lord discovered Lily and her family. Then, I would enquire after the life-status of the Dark Lord, Potter, and Lily's son, the answers of which would determine my fate. If I decided to live, I would ask Albus what I had best do to assist (while remaining _out _of Azkaban), and if not, I would simply conceal my intentions from him. Regardless, I was committed to informing Albus of my concerns surrounding the boy and the bartender, and if necessary, I would erase the bartender's memory- the boy, I sensed, would be far harder to find.

This was my plan and within an hour I had hoped to be back home.

However, when we finally reached Albus' office and the large door closed behind us, I sank into the chair opposite the Headmaster's desk and was unable to speak.

The anger and disappointment I felt before had returned, and within seconds I realised this interaction would not go according to plan.

Albus sat opposite me looking tired and grieved. These were emotions I felt he did not deserve to feel; the woman he loved did not die just over 24 hours ago. Hewas _supposed_ to keep her safe- provide her with the best protection- that was our deal. How could the most powerful wizard have failed her?

We stared at one another for a moment. The longer he remained silent, the angrier I felt; I wanted answers and he was not offering them to me. I should not have to ask.

And that was when I realised he was waiting for me to breakdown; he had that cautious, sympathetic look about him as he watched me carefully. But I was beyond crying or wallowing in guilt- I had exhausted myself completely the previous night. Emotions were for the weak anyway. I needed to act- to make a decision that had everything to do with pragmatics and nothing to do with my feelings.

"I thought you said you would protect her," I muttered bitterly into the silence as I returned his stare. A tug from my chest reminded me how much I believed he could have. Clearly, I was wrong. I expected Albus to turn away from me in shame, but he continued to watch me as if challenging me to explain how her death was his fault.

To vocalise anything further was beyond my emotional control, so I turned away from Albus to stare out the window into the dark sky. Nevertheless, I could feel Albus' gaze on me and heard him move forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his desk.

"I tried," he sighed, "just as you did," he said quietly.

"You _tried?_" I hissed as I turned around to face him again. "_You_ could have kept her safe! Someone like me can only hope to try."

_I could have- should have done more… there must have been something else I could have done, _I convinced myself; I could not accept that my hopes of protecting Lily was doomed from the beginning as Albus was suggesting.

"I provided them with the very best protection I knew of, Severus-"

"And what was that?" I snapped at him believing that whatever he had tried was far from good enough.

"The Fidelius Charm," he informed me calmly.

My mind registered that I had heard of this magic before, but I had never been informed of exactly what it did.

Seeing the confusion on my face, Albus sought to fill the gap in my knowledge.

"The Fidelius Charm allows the knowledge of a specific location to be embedded in an individual's soul. This person is known as the 'Secret Keeper'. When the charm is placed on a particular location it renders the place unplottable, invisible, intangible, and sound-proof to everyone except the Secret Keeper and those who are protected within the dwelling. The only way that someone can discover the location is if they are _willingly, intentionally _and _directly _informed of the location by the Secret Keeper," Albus emphasised.

"So the Potters' 'Secret Keeper' informed the Dark Lord of their location?" I hissed; whoever was trusted with this vital, life-preserving piece of information deserved to be tortured horrendously for intentionally betraying them.

"Yes," Albus sighed. "Unfortunately, they placed their secret with the wrong person-"

"Who was it?" I growled. "I assume it wasn't you."

Albus gave me a hard look, and I suppose I deserved his momentary contempt; despite my anger and disappointment, I knew that had the Potters trusted Albus, they would still be alive. Albus was neither afraid nor intimidated by the Dark Lord- he would have taken their secret to his grave.

"I _did_ offer to be their Secret Keeper. However," Albus sighed again, "James and Lily, you may have noticed, trust their friends implicitly, so they chose to place their secret with one of them."

For a split second I wondered whether this was what I would do with my life; hunt down and destroy whoever was responsible for betraying them. However, to complete such a task, I needed one more piece of vital information.

"Who was it?" I growled.

_Whoever they are, they're dead!_

Albus looked at me carefully, and I could see a sadness there that was different from before. Clearly, he also felt betrayed by this individual, whoever they were; if the Potters trusted them, then Albus must have too.

"Albus?"

The Headmaster sighed and rested his chin on his long interlocked fingers. He looked over his half moon spectacles at me and said:

"Sirius Black."

I found it strangely difficult to swallow. I gripped the arm rest without realising I had until the hard oak pressed into my flesh.

I tried to swallow again but bile had filled the back of my throat. My fists were still clenched around the arms of the chair.

I _desperately_ wanted to be angry, but it was not my immediate or my most prominent emotion. I felt _betrayed_, and I hated that of all the emotions I _should_ have felt upon hearing Albus' words, I was _hurt_. I was shocked beyond speech.

_Black turned the Potters in to the Dark Lord?_

Surely he had shared the secret unintentionally? But Albus _said_ that the secret could only be passed on if it was done with intention. That left only one option: Black had turned towards the Dark Arts; he had followed in his family's footsteps… and mine. The irony of it was almost too much to stomach. If his actions had not resulted in Lily's death, I would have laughed- actually laughed at the boy who once bullied me for _my_ interest in dark magic now knowing that he would turn to that very art years later.

As it was, I felt the opposite of jubilant; I felt physically sick. Black and Potter were best friends- they did everything together, include bully me. Potter's parents had unofficially adopted Black into their family during our sixth year and I heard that he was Potter's Best Man on their wedding day. Albus' revelation made me want to reconsider everything I felt I knew about- well, everything. Black's betrayal challenged everything I believed about his camaraderie with Potter, his hate of the Dark Arts, his respect for Albus, and his determination to defeat the Dark Lord.

A part of me wanted to deny the accusation so I would not have to re-examine what I understood about loyalty and friendship (having only had one true friend in my life). I unwillingly shuddered when I realised that if I was forced to trust someone other than myself or Albus to keep their secret, I would have placed it with Black. As cruel as Black was to me when we were adolescents, he would _never _have willingly or even accidently done something so detrimental to his best friend and his family. Black was many things, but not a coward and certainly not disloyal. But the steely glare in Dumbledore's eyes told me that he was not mistaken; Black was the reason for all of our grief. Nevertheless, I found it difficult to stomach the truth.

"I see you are as shocked as I," Albus observed when I had not answered him.

I nodded. "How did you find out?" I whispered, assuming that Black would not have been so tactless to have admitted it.

"A lot has happened since the Potters' deaths," Albus began solemnly. "I have spent the majority of my morning speaking with the Muggles and wizards who witnessed Sirius murder Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles after the former accused him of betraying Lily and James-"

"He _killed_ them?" I asked, shocked.

"Yes," Albus confirmed, his lips turning into a frown as he analysed the process of events, "I imagine Peter went to find Sirius after discovering the Potters had been murdered, and confronted him in a side street. After a brief conversation, an explosion was reportedly heard. The result was a disarray of limbs and flesh that were analysed by magical and Muggle facilities. The remnants belong to twelve Muggles, and a finger was all that was left of Peter," he informed me solemnly. "Sirius was reportedly 'laughing like a maniac' when the ministry officials took him to Azkaban…"

I could conceive of only one plausible explanation for this turn of events: Black was mentally unwell- insane, and no one had noticed until it was too late.

_But he did show a tendency towards murder when he was young, _my conscience reminded me.

I could still remember the moment as if it were yesterday when I glimpsed the werewolf, Remus Lupin prowling around in the Shrieking Shack. Black was the one who encouraged me to follow Lupin into the trunk of the Whomping Willow.

_If Potter had not stopped me…_

It literally pained me that I was, in some way, indebted to Potter for saving my life, even though it was his supposed best friend who attempted to sentence me to death. Perhaps I should have known _then_ that Black was unhinged and reckless. Regardless, we now had proof: thirteen corpses and being responsible for the Potters' deaths.

This new knowledge of Black's treachery had forced me into a state of confusion, only to be topped by Albus' mention of Peter Pettigrew.

A month ago, Albus informed me that someone was feeding information about the Order to the Dark Lord. After I agreed to lower my Occlumens defences, Albus saw that I was not the culprit. However, this meant there was another spy out there, one who worked _for_ the Dark Lord. Albus told me that the Order was aware of his concerns, and a specific team was being organised to investigate who it was. As far as I knew, the spy was never discovered, and as I was expected to bring information about the Dark Lord _to_ Dumbledore, I did not have time to think on the subject any further.

The moment Dumbledore informed me that Black was responsible for turning the Potters in to the Dark Lord I concluded that he was the spy they had somehow overlooked.

However, Albus' tone now suggested that he was mourning the death of Peter Pettigrew aka Wormtail, who I knew to be a Death Eater.

My heart skipped a beat and then sank when I realised that Dumbledore was not aware of this fact. All this time, I had assumed Albus knew; Wormtail could not perform Occlumency to conceal his allegiance and was a notoriously poor liar. My palms begun to sweat when I realised my assumption was incorrect.

I tried to speak- to tell Albus what I had known for months, but my mouth was dry with a renewed guilt.

"Albus," I began, dreading how the Headmaster would react to _my _information, "Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater."

Albus stared at me in silence, his eyes wide in disbelief.

I awaited his reaction in anticipation.

"Excuse me?" he eventually spoke in a tone that caused a shiver to run down my spine.

"I- I thought you knew," I tried to defend myself, beginning to panic. "Was- was he in the Order?" I dared ask.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied icily.

"I- well I am surprised; the Dark Lord usually refuses to accept recruits who have been a member of the Order of the Phoenix… He could not have been so clever as to fool you both," I insisted, and yet clearly he had without the use of Occlumency, just pure lies.

Albus stood up and paced quickly along his side of the desk. I watched him with apprehension; his face was frozen in agitation as he walked.

"Peter was the spy," Dumbledore muttered with clarity. "And Sirius-"

He stopped speaking to look at me.

"I never saw Black among us," I informed him immediately. "As far as I know, he was not a Death Eater."

"Then why would he betray the Potters to Voldemort? What would he gain from such treachery?" Albus pondered loudly and I knew anger, perhaps even rage was boiling under the surface. "Unless…" Dumbledore's relentless pacing stopped as if to provide more energy to his mind. He was clearly trying to find an explanation that would account for all of the facts known to him.

"Could- is- is it possible that it wasn't Black who betrayed them?" I asked hesitantly, unsure if Albus would appreciate my interruption.

Albus contemplated this for ten steps as he resumed pacing, his first finger and thumb were stroking his chin.

"It is _possible_," he eventually allowed, and then stopped walking to make eye contact with me. "The Potters may have swapped Secret Keepers; they knew how to perform the charm. They _could _have placed their secret with Peter, another of their friends at the last minute. Like myself, they would not have known where his loyalty lay."

"I am sorry," I muttered quietly. "If I had informed you, this could have been prevented; Lily may have lived after all."

_Why was everything my fault?_

"Severus," Albus said seriously, taking his seat behind his desk once again, "it is not helpful to blame yourself; clearly Peter played his part well- he fooled many of us."

I allowed Albus to believe his reassurance worked even though it did nothing to assuage my guilt.

"He is definitely dead?" I confirmed with Dumbledore.

"Yes, Peter is dead," he replied in a flat tone.

"What are you going to do?" I asked; even I did not know what to believe anymore.

Albus sighed. "I see two possibilities. One: Peter was the Potters' Secret Keeper, and when he discovered Peter had betrayed them, Sirius murdered him and unintentionally killed twelve Muggles in the process. The other option is that Peter and Sirius were both spies where either one of them could have been the Secret Keeper. Sirius' murderous attack could therefore be interpreted as offensive or defensive- at any rate, one of them did not agree with the other's decision to turn the Potters in to Voldemort."

I nodded; Albus' reasoning made perfect sense to me, and I could think of no other possibility than the two he had outlined.

"Will you tell the Order who the spy was?"

Albus leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk once again.

"Although it is clear that Peter was a spy, it is still uncertain whether Black was as well. At present, everyone believes Sirius was guilty as Peter had shouted his accusation for the whole town to hear. Given Peter is dead, I feel there would be little point in making further accusations until we are certain of the facts. However, as only Sirius could provide us with the truth, of which he is in no place to do, I feel it would be best to keep this conversation to ourselves. Even if he were not the Potters' Secret Keeper or a Death Eater, his decision to murder thirteen people would still earn him Life in Azkaban."

I allowed myself to sneer for two seconds; either way Black was guilty of something that gave him a one way ticket to Azkaban, the second to worse torture (after the Cruciatus Curse) known to our kind. Finally karma was demanding he pay for the cruel things he had done to me when we were kids. I permitted myself to relish in his pain, and I could only hope I was not about to join him.

"I will not tell anyone of what I know," I reassured Albus. "Of course, if I learn of anything else that may assist you with this matter, I will inform you immediately." "Thank you," Albus replied, nodding towards me. "Is there anything else you wished to ask or tell me?" he murmured slowly, and I could tell by the slight droop of his eyelids that was he exhausted.

Feeling terrible, I quickly sifted through my memory in search of the questions I wished to ask so Albus could get some rest.

"I went to Godric's Hollow last night," I told him.

He leant forward slowly with mild interest.

"Did you? And what did you discover?"

"Their ruined house," _their bodies, _I shivered. "How was I even able to see it? Black and Peter were still alive at that time," I questioned Albus.

"For ease of explanation, let us assume that Black was the Potters' Secret Keeper," Albus suggested, to which I agreed.

"The Fidelius Charm can be best understood as a contract," Albus explained. "As with contracts, each incantation of this charm is unique to the location that requires protecting, and the situation surrounding that protection. In the case of the Potters, their home was to be kept a secret in order to protect Lily, James, and their son Harry. Lily and James decided that if they were both to die, Harry would have a better chance of surviving if others could see the house and what was potentially happening within. Therefore, it was agreed that the charm would be nullified if both Lily and James were to perish. This is why you were able to see the debris that was their home. If Lily had lived and James had died, for example, their home would have remained invisible and undetectable."

I nodded my head to indicate that I understood Albus' explanation so far.

"It was also agreed that if Sirius was to die while the Potters were still being hunted by Voldemort, the Secret would also die with him, thus providing the ultimate protection for James and his family. They would have remained safe indefinitely as no one would have the ability to share the Secret with Voldemort or anyone else for that matter. Only by willingly and intentionally leaving their home and reversing the charm placed on their property would it be alleviated and the secret no longer be in existence."

"I see," I replied; the queries I had surrounding the Fidelius Charm had been answered for the moment. "How did you find out what happened to them?"

Albus smiled grimly, but it soon faded.

"Although I was not their Secret Keeper, I had my own means of monitoring Lily and James. When they denied me the honour of being their Secret Keeper, they allowed me to perform a couple of spells that would alert me if they left their home or experienced poor health, which included death. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred for weeks until last night when I received knowledge that James had died, but by the time I arrived in the general location of the Potters' home, I was too late and Voldemort was no where to be seen. I searched for him briefly in case he was in hiding which would have placed myself and the majority of Godric's Hollow in danger, but to no avail. On my way back to their house to further investigate the damage, I sent my Patronus to Bathilda Bagshot who attempted to calm the town down, for there was already talk that Voldemort had been defeated and that the Potters were dead except for their-"

"How could they have deduced that so quickly?" I interrupted.

"The charm had been broken, so they could once again see the house. This, in addition to the rumours that Voldemort was searching for the Potters gave them enough information to make assumptions that were unfortunately correct."

"When I entered their house, I knew you had been there; Lily and Potter's bodies were invisible," I muttered, feeling quite sickened now that I knew more of the events that led up to Lily's tragic death.

"Yes, I had hoped to provide them with some privacy until the funeral," Albus murmured and then he looked at me closely. "You must have been there for some time to have discovered what I had done, Severus," and I knew Albus had deduced that I had _seen_ their bodies despite his best efforts.

"I could not have left fast enough once I saw-" but I could not finish speaking as an unforgiving image of Lily's pale, dead body came to me. I turned away from Albus and closed my eyes briefly in an attempt to rid myself of the memory.

"Is that what happened to your cheek, Severus? Did you injure yourself on your way out?" Albus asked as he attempted to side-step my emotional struggle. I looked up and saw his eyes locked on the right side of my face. I raised my hand to my cheek; I had forgotten about the bruise that formed there when I fell the night before.

"I had a difficult night," I told him vaguely, wishing he would change the subject yet again.

"I imagine so," Albus replied sympathetically. "We could both do with a rest. However, I feel there is more you wished to talk about," he prompted me.

"I wanted to confirm that their son is dead."

Albus paused, a small smile appearing on his face- the first expression of true happiness I had seen that night. When our eyes met, he said clearly: "No, he's not."

Felt my stomach sink; not only had Albus' response sealed my fate but that boy in the bar had been right.

_Their son lives._

I would force myself to live for this child- for Lily's son. I wondered how I would have felt finding out about this _after_ I had already committed the deed- I struggled with whether I was thankful to the boy for delaying my death or not.

"I hope you will help me protect him," Albus said gently as if it were an invitation.

"Protect him? From who? The Dark Lord has disappeared or… died," I considered, though I could not begin to fathom how Lily and/or James managed to kill the most dangerous wizard of all time.

"Voldemort _has_ disappeared, but he will return, and Harry will be in grave danger when he does."

I did not bother asking Albus how he knew the Dark Lord would eventually resurface or that he was not actually dead (though I supposed being unable to find his body was reasonably convincing evidence). I assumed Dumbledore had his own mysterious way of knowing such things.

I briefly considered Albus' offer with the full understanding that I would be agreeing to a lifetime of spying and lying for him.

Deciding that this was hardly different to my role prior to the Potters' deaths, I nodded my head.

"Very well, but you must never tell Dumbledore- no one can ever know why I altered my allegiance, especially Potter's son."

Albus' eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Never reveal the very best of you? But Severus-" he tried to object.

"_Promise_ me," I insisted; I could not bear our world knowing how strongly I loved Lily Potter, so much so that I planned to devote my time to protecting _Potter's_ child. I could not allow anyone to exploit my feelings for her; it would make me too vulnerable, and my role as spy extremely complicated.

"If you insist," Albus reluctantly agreed, though I could tell he felt it disappointing that my behaviour would not be publically understood.

In that moment, Albus was likely still grieving the Potters; he could not see what I could: the repercussions. If it were known I loved Lily, the truth of my allegiance would be obvious and my effectiveness as a spy would be useless.

Satisfied with Dumbledore's pledge, I was about to ask exactly what he would have me do now that I had agreed to protect a baby who, as far as I had assumed, had all the protection he needed. But then I recalled a far more pressing issue.

"I am a known Death Eater, Albus. How do you plan on keeping me out of Azkaban?" I asked him, curious as to what the Headmaster would come up with when, as far as I could see, I had no defence. Although being in Azkaban would allow me to watch and hear Black deteriorate in his cell, I was not willing to suffer to an equal degree for that opportunity.

"Mmm yes, I have already taken the liberty of sending the Ministry my defence of you-"

"Before I even agreed to this?" I objected, feeling used; he assumed too much.

"I knew the possibility of redemption would be a powerful motivator for you, Severus," Albus said gently and reasonably.

_He isn't wholly wrong, _I reasoned with myself.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to reduce my momentary anger with him.

"What did you tell them?" I continued loudly, wondering whether Albus' previous promise to keep my feelings for Lily private had already been broken without my knowledge.

"Simply that you changed sides prior to Voldemort's downfall. I also informed them that you have been working for me for roughly a month and that I trust you completely."

"Completely?" I repeated, wondering how much of Albus' letter was exaggerated for the benefit of my freedom.

"Yes, completely," Dumbledore reinforced seriously, and then continued the conversation as if I had not interrupted him. "However, until my letter has been properly considered, which will probably involve a hearing that will require our presence I'm afraid," he warned me, "it is best to assume that the Ministry will continue to search for you."

I nodded, grateful that Albus had already considered how he was going to protect and defend me.

"I will- let me know if there is anything you need me to do," I stated as my way of thanking him for the effort he was going to; hopefully it would be enough.

Glad that I was willing to be helpful despite recent events, Albus smiled with relief. I was about to address the next topic on my agenda when a large tawny owl pecked loudly on Albus' window.

Dumbledore rose from his chair and approached the window to my right. Lifting the glass so the owl could deliver its letter, Albus extricated the parchment from the animal before placing a few knuts in its pouch. Studying the delivery, Albus shut the window with his wand while he walked back to his desk. Knowing it was none of my business, I sat quietly as Albus opened the seal. I noticed it bore the Ministry of Magic's crest and for a moment I feared they had already come to a decision regarding my being spared from Azkaban.

However, Albus did not look up at me so I hoped this meant it had nothing to do with me. After two minutes of silent reading of the first page, I was surprised to notice that six further pages followed the first. Thankfully, Dumbledore only briefly pursued these. I felt he wanted to make sure all the documentation was present, but as to what it was for, I had no idea.

Dumbledore folded the seven pieces of parchment along the original creases and placed it in his locked top drawer for safe keeping.

"I will deal with that first thing," Albus commented out loud as if to commit the task to memory for the morning.

I waited, wondering whether Albus was going to explain the sizable letter (which I was quite curious about) or if I should continue with my questions.

When Albus looked at me for the first time since the owl arrived, it was as if he had forgotten I existed.

"I apologise for that interruption, Severus but unfortunately it cannot be helped when so much needs to be done in far too little time. Were there other matters you wished to discuss with me?"

"Does that," I said pointing towards his top drawer, "have anything to do with me?"

"No, the Ministry just sent me the documentation I require to legally register Harry's adoption," Albus explained and then sighed. "Although I should not expect the Muggle system to be as prompt, I do hope it will not take them too long," he continued. The only part of his statement I heard clearly was the word 'Muggle' and the sound of Albus' sigh.

I cleared my throat as I attempted to process what he was trying to tell me.

"Harry Potter is to be adopted by _Muggles_?" I vocalised, feeling both angry and frustrated. "How are any of us to protect him when he lives among people who are not privy to our world?" I demanded loudly in frustration. But then I took a deep breath as I realised how much I had already invested in the safety of Lily's son. "He will not be safe," I asserted through my teeth which forced me to speak in a more controlled manner than before.

Albus narrowed his eyes at me, but I could see a hint of a smile on his face.

"This is quite a change from your sentiments a few weeks ago, Severus," he observed as if it were some amazing discovery he had made.

"If my only reason for living is to ensure his safety, then-"

"Your _only _reason?" Albus interrupted me. Judging by the look on his face, he believed there were other reasons as to why my life would be worth living. But of course, he was wrong unless he somehow knew what that boy and his Seer sister knew, which I highly doubted.

"Yes," I muttered, not wishing to elaborate.

"I suppose the fact that his parents were murdered changed the extent to which you care for his life," Albus hypothesised solemnly.

Although this was partially true, my decision was based on his being Lily's son…she would want him to stay safe. I did not bother informing Albus of this, however.

Instead I focused on my goal: keeping the boy safe which was proving to be impossible. How was I to work with Albus if he insists right from the beginning that the boy be raised by _Muggles_?

"And yet you insist he live with Muggles who, I may add, could provide him with no protection if someone wished to cause the child harm," I persisted with the Headmaster.

"Being away from our kind will keephim safe; he will be far away from those who may want to cause him harm," Albus tried to reason with me.

"Who is adopting him anyway?" I asked, ignoring his previous answer; I didn't believe him for a second. But who the boy was staying with would likely influence how strongly I tried to pursue the issue.

"Harry's only living relatives."

I continued to stare at Dumbledore waiting for a real answer. Seeing my impatience in the twitch of my jaw, he elaborated.

"Lily's sister, Petunia."

_Petunia? 'Tuney' Lily had called her._

I could still remember the conversation Lily and I had on the Hogwarts Express when we travelled to school for the first time.

"Lily, what's wrong?" I had asked for she was staring out of the window of our carriage and refused to look at me.

"Nothing," she said tearfully.

I carefully sat next to her and prepared to pry; I hated seeing her upset.

"Do you miss your parents?" I tried to guess; I knew she was close to them.

But she shook her head. Then she must've realised I was not going to accept that 'nothing' was wrong, so she decided to tell me.

That was when she turned to look at me for the first time since we boarded the train.

Her beautiful green eyes were bloodshot and swimming in tears. Her face was flushed red, and her cheeks were wet. Her lips were trembling and I knew she was struggling not to sob. For a moment she was unable to repeat what had made her so upset, but eventually she cried:

"Tuney wouldn't say bye to me. She just called me a freak again and then walked away from me!" and then my poor Lily was consumed with heart-wrenching sobs.

"You know you're not a freak, Lily," I protested gently as I put my arm around her shoulders, "she's just jealous," I reminded her. Ever since Lily received her Hogwarts letter on her 11th birthday, Petunia had been bitter with jealousy.

As far as I knew, her sister's view never changed despite how close they used to be before magic entered their lives.

I wondered how Lily's death would have affected her sister; last I heard, Petunia refused to speak to Lily even when they were living in the same house. I doubted that age would have changed Lily's stubborn sister and even if it had, I would never forgive her for ruining what was meant to be one of the best days of Lily's life.

This reminder was all the evidence I needed to know that Harry Potter's life would be miserable if he was forced to live with that woman.

"She would never take him," I asserted with confidence.

"Mmm, well she _was_ reluctant, but I feel-"

"Are you telling me she has already agreed to take him in?" I interceded, unable to conceal my shock.

"Yes-"

"You are aware, I hope, that she hates our kind? She called Lily a 'freak' on multiple occasions and refused to speak to her perhaps throughout her entire schooling-"

"I am well aware of how jealous Petunia was of her sister's abilities," Dumbledore spoke over me.

"After so many years, I am sure that jealousy has turned into spite, Albus."

"Nevertheless, there is nowhere else for Harry to go."

"Surely either Lily or Potter's parents are able to look after him?"

"I am afraid not; James' parents are unfortunately disabled and unfit to care for a young child, and Lily's parents died in a fatal car accident nearly three years ago."

I took a moment to grieve over Mr and Mrs Evans who had always been so supportive of Lily throughout her schooling, and who Lily loved unconditionally. I could not bear to consider how much Lily grieved for them when they died.

"Then I am sure there would be others," I persisted, "in _our _world who would be more than happy-"

"Severus," Albus interjected once again. After saying my name he sighed and massaged his brow with his fingers. Then, looking at me directly in the eye he said firmly:

"I understand that you object to the arrangements I have made. However, I hope you realise that I have considered every objection you have thrown at me. Let us remember that although Petunia appears to dislike magic, there was a time when she wanted to _attend_ Hogwarts." Albus paused here to x-ray me; somehow he knew that I was aware that Petunia had written to Hogwarts asking to be admitted into the school. "Although she is a Muggle, she _was _curious about magic and would have overheard Lily's conversations with her parents about the types of things she learnt during her time at Hogwarts. Placing Harry with his curious, however bitter Aunt is not desirable, but it is a necessity. I need you to trust me with this decision."

"Why is it _necessary_?" I asked, latching on to that aspect of Albus' explanation.

Albus was lost in thought for a few seconds before he re-focused on my face.

And then, to my surprise, he chuckled quietly.

"Why is it necessary," he repeated as if he found the statement amusing. "I may ask you a far more perplexing question, Severus. How did Harry survive?"

I shrugged my shoulders; I presumed something unbelievable occurred such as Lily and James somehow defeating the Dark lord, that something had dissuaded him from pursuing the boy, or something else equally unlikely.

"What did he survive?" I asked, feeling slightly foolish that I never thought to ask how the boy continued to live when he parents did not.

"The killing curse," Albus replied impressively, and I could tell he took some enjoyment in informing me of this apparent fact.

I swore under my breath in disbelief. My other hypotheses were at least _plausible_, but this had to be a lie, and yet it was the only explanation that could justify the Dark Lord's disappearance.

"How?" was all I could choke out.

"I continue to contemplate the possible answers to that question myself, however my best guess is that Lily's death somehow provided an impenetratable shield for her son which prevented the killing curse from doing its job. This is why I _insist_ that Harry live with his mother's family- Lily's sacrifice continues to run in her sister's blood."

I had no choice but to accept Albus' theory. Despite how impossible it sounded, for no one has _ever _survived the killing curse, I was not willing to insist that Harry Potter live away from his aunt- magic, as I had just discovered, could work in mysterious ways… perhaps Lily's blood _did_ have something to do with all of this?

I remained lost in thought for a couple of minutes until Albus' face entered my peripheral vision.

"Given that Harry's new home is meant to protect him, it would be best that no one else know where he is currently living," Albus said quietly, and I knew he trusted me to keep our conversation a secret.

I looked directly at him and nodded my head; his trust in me had increased to a level I never believed it would reach. Only a few weeks ago I was a loyal Death Eater. I could not help but feel privileged that he was confiding in me such important information.

"Excellent. However, I see we have become side-tracked, though of course, it is completely understandable considering the unintended interruption from the Ministry. Was there anything else you wished to discuss with me, Severus?" Albus asked, his chin was again resting on his interlocked fingers.

I took a moment to answer; I needed to alter my thinking back to the events of last night which seemed almost insignificant when compared to Petunia's adopting Lily's baby boy.

"I have reason to believe that there are… _Muggles,_" I eventually said, uncertain how else to describe the boy, "who know or strongly suspect that witches and wizards exist in a parallel world to their own."

Albus' eyebrows rose, but did not look as alarmed as I thought he would have.

"Are you sure these Muggles are not relatives of a Muggleborn witch or wizard?" he checked with me. Although I had not thought of this, I felt strangely certain that this was not the case. The combination of his otherworldly appearance and his sister's strong gift as a Seer convinced me that he could not have been entirely human.

"No, I am not certain, but I believe the Muggle I met was supernatural somehow."

"How do you mean?"

"Last night I was in a pub in Spinner's End when a boy walked in and began to talk to me. What I thought began as an average conversation between myself and an inquisitive, unusually attractive adolescent, was soon revealed to be a ploy. His sister is apparently a very gifted Seer, though that is not the term he used," I clarified quickly, "and she saw- sh- she saw something," I stuttered in an attempt to conceal the implied significance of what she saw, "that happens in the future… her vision involved both the Muggle world and ours."

"So you believe that the Code of Secrecy has been breached by means of his sister's gift?"

"Yes," I answered, relieved that Albus was able to understand my vague explanation.

"I see. I don't suppose you will tell me what she saw?" he asked as he scanned my face over the top of his glasses.

I turned away from him, not to avoid his attempt at Legilimency, but because I felt awkward and arrogant repeating the words the boy had said to me.

Noticing my reluctance, Albus leaned back against his chair as if to show he would not interrogate me.

"Do you think it would be important for me to know what this girl had seen?"

_Yes, _I thought to myself, and reluctantly nodded my head.

Albus decided not to respond to my ascent, though I had no doubt that he was curious to know more.

"Then that leaves my final question: why did the boy tell you about the vision his sister saw- do you think he knows you are a wizard?"

Obviously I knew the answer to both aspects of his question, but I only answered the latter.

"Yes, I believe he knows I am a wizard."

Albus was clearly waiting for me to continue; he was holding on to my every word. When I continued to remain silent on the matter, Albus pressed me.

"Do you intend to tell me any more about this conversation?"

I shook my head. "No, but I have a feeling the boy will be difficult to find if you wanted to erase his memory. Although I can remember what he looks like, I have never met his sister, and she is perhaps the more problematic one in this case."

"Was there anything else you wished to tell me other than the existence of this boy and his sister?"

"Yes, the bartender was listening to our conversation," I said quietly. "Nothing was directly said out loud about our world-"

"Then how do you know the boy knows about us?" Albus interjected kindly.

"It is… difficult to explain. But he knows, I am certain of it," I said, now feeling foolish that I had no actual evidence to support my beliefs.

"You were saying about the bartender?" Albus prompted me.

"Although he does not know about our world directly, he does know what the girl saw in our future. I fear he may try to take matters into his own hands." Dumbledore's eyebrows rose noticeably and I knew that by suggesting a Muggle may attempt to alter the future of our world, Albus would not rest until he found out what the mysterious Seer had seen.

Miraculously, Albus refrained from demanding further information and instead spoke in a reasoned and controlled manner.

"So you believe it would be safest to erase his memory?"

"Yes."

"If you can find him, then by all means do what you feel you must. However," Albus leaned on his forearms and moved closer to me from across his desk, "you need to tell me what happened between you and this boy. Or if you prefer," he added as an afterthought, "you can show me," he invited, indicating to the stone basin that sat in the glass cabinet behind me.

Albus' blue eyes were bright with intense interest, and I knew I would have no choice but to divulge the details of the conversation I had in the bar last night. The options he provided me were merely pretence; if I refused him, I would have been subjected to Legilimency. I suppose I should have realised it would come to this; you do not inform Albus Dumbledore that you met a supernatural being who knows about our world without being prepared to be interrogated. I imagined how it would feel for me to watch Albus observe me in my drunken state communicating with the boy… the only positive outcome would be if Dumbledore could identify was so strange about him.

Deciding that I felt more comfortable with Albus learning what happened via a passive means rather than directly through my re-telling of it, I walked towards the Pensieve. My memory would provide him with a more accurate depiction of the boy's appearance than my words could ever do. I silently raised my wand to my temple, recalled the memory from the previous night, and then relaxed my mind to allow the recollection to smoothly exit my body for the time being.

Delighted that I had acquiesced to one of his requests without argument or objection, Albus joined me at the Pensieve, his eyes wide with anticipation. I gently lay the silvery string of my memory into the basin.

I looked up at Albus who I knew was watching me and indicated that he enter first. Albus willingly obliged, and once he had disappeared, I took a deep breath.

I did not want to relive what happened the night before- the pain, agony, guilt, and grief- to a time when my own death was closer than close because I wished it to be- to a moment when I felt terribly vulnerable and irrevocably curious at the same time. As uncomfortable as I knew I would feel watching the conversation unfold, knowing the revelation that will come towards the end, Albus needed to know what I knew. Perhaps, if the Headmaster ever doubted me, this memory would remind him how much I loved Lily- how much I had suffered last night- how much I wanted to die to with her…

XXXXXXX

Author's note: Congratulations on finishing the chapter! It was quite a long one- I hope part 2 will not be as long, but you never know with me and my last minute ideas! The second part will be told primarily from Albus' perspective- I hope you will enjoy reading his view of Edward and the interaction that takes place between him and Severus. Originally, I had intended for Severus to inform Albus of the future Alice had seen, but then I realised the Pensieve would be way more fun!

The differences you may have noticed between the various scenes in canon and those briefly depicted here, namely Severus and Albus' first conversation after Lily's death, Severus' memory of the first day on the Hogwart's express, and the reference to his knowing that Petunia wrote to Hogwarts were written in a way that seemed to flow for me. In particular, the way Albus reacted to Severus' desire to die in canon didn't feel right to me, which is why I forced 24 hours between Lily's death and their meeting in my story. Thus, Severus was in a different frame of mind when he met with Dumbledore, and I hope that was obvious throughout this chapter.

One thing I have yet to resolve is how Dumbledore knew _exactly_ what happened when Voldemort entered their house (i.e. in canon Dumbledore informs Harry that James faced Voldemort first and told Lily to take Harry and run, and that Lily sacrificed her life to protect her son's- the latter of which we know is paramount to the entire story line. But how did Albus _know_ that? As you can tell, the only plausible deduction I made was that Albus _assumed_ what Lily must have done given Harry survived the killing curse, but really… there must be more to it).

I feel that somehow Dumbledore must have _been_ there or something… I remember reading someone's theory; they thought he was wearing James' invisibility cloak. But from what I understand about the Fidelius charm, Albus would not have been able to enter the dwelling unless the Secret Keeper (ie. Wormtail) told him where it was. But as Albus did not know Wormtail was their true keeper, this obviously did not happen. If _anyone _has any idea how to explain this, please do share your thoughts with me! It's been driving me crazy for a fortnight!

In addition, if any one is confused by my description of the Fidelius Charm or anything else in this chapter, please let me know. And yeah, I dug myself in a bit of a black hole when I provided Severus with the knowledge that Peter was a Death Eater. But I hope Albus' reason to keep this fact a secret is a plausible one.

Anyway, enough of my rambling; you've read enough for a while!

But please do leave me a review; I so enjoy reading your thoughts :)

Also, in case there are any new readers, I have a facebook page. Please go here:

Bumblebee5n4p3?ref=hl

to fan me and get access to chapter teasers :D

Thanks heaps for reading; it means the world to me!


	7. Chapter 6: Memories Part 2

Author's note: Welcome back to 'Leave Me'! I know what you're thinking: What happened to that faster update, huh? I'm so sorry! I resumed uni for the year and had a few other things going on that were more urgent than writing (which is a bummer) L Thanks for being patient with me, I really appreciate it!

This chapter was a bit tricky to write (amongst other things, which will be explained at the end), because I needed to adjust to writing Albus' POV about a conversation I have now written 3 times! I enjoyed writing the chapter, but I look forward to writing about something new :D

Enough chat though. Let's get right to it! I hope you enjoy reading the observations and speculations Albus comes up with!

Happy reading!

Leave Me

Chapter 5- Memories Part 2

Albus' POV

The fact that Severus had met with an unidentifiable supernatural creature both intrigued and concerned me; who was this 'boy' and would he keep our world a secret from the rest of his species? I hoped seeing the boy for myself would provide me with some clues on the matter, so I was eager to enter the Pensieve to view him with my own eyes. Based on the few facts Severus had been willingly to tell me, the boy's species must _look _human, otherwise Severus should have known he was supernatural. I also anticipated the details of their conversation to be vital to my understanding of the boy and the vision his sister had Seen, so I was more than a little surprised when Severus refused to elaborate on the contents of their discussion. Severus' unwillingness to explain led me to believe that the conversation was more personal than Severus had admitted to me, in which case, I could understand why he preferred to show, rather than tell me, what happened.

In the few seconds it took for me to enter the Pensieve and 'reappear' within Severus' memory, I was already contemplating which of the possible supernatural beings the mysterious boy may originate from. The mere fact that such a creature was in Spinner's End was highly unusual; as far as I knew, Severus was the only individual living there who was not a Muggle.

I landed quietly on my feet. My eyes were immediately captured by the rich woods that formed the furniture and the floor within the small pub. Six stools lined the bar opposite me, and a four tall tables and stools were organised neatly around the mahogany timber floor. The lights were dim, but sufficient to see clearly. The bartender seemed a kind man, perhaps in his fifties. He was watching his two customers with unyielding interest, his eyes shifting from left to right. It only then occurred to me that the boy and Severus were already talking quietly; it was difficult to tell because they were not facing one another. I made my way to the bar bench without further ado; I did not want to miss any more of their conversation.

Within a second I was standing next to the boy. If he were able to sense my presence, he would have certainly believed me inconsiderate and ignorant of his personal space. But I had no desire to control my enthusiasm. Instantly, I was struck by how _perfect _he appeared. I was certain such a physically faultless creation could _not_ be human. This alone was enough to tell me that the boy was supernatural; my many years of living had shown me that all humans were guaranteed to possess at least one imperfect physical flaw. This boy had _none_.

I was leaning over the bench so I could stare at the boy's face. I was watching how his lips and unnaturally bright golden eyes moved with precision, when I heard the present day Severus arrive behind me.

"What do you think?" he asked me quietly. He now stood behind himself so he could watch my observations of the boy from afar.

"You are correct, Severus," I told him with wonder. "He is definitely supernatural. As to _what_ he is…" I trailed off in continued contemplation. "I have no idea; I have never seen someone who looks like him before."

"Then how are you certain he is supernatural?" Severus challenged me. I could not be sure if his question was oppositional or if he was simply curious, not that it mattered of course.

I dragged my eyes away from the boy's, stood upright, and turned to look at Severus from over my shoulder.

"I have no certain evidence as of yet, but I hope, as your conversation with him continues, something may come up," I said cheerfully to my companion. "So far my only clue is he is _too _perfect."

Severus grunted, and I knew he wholeheartedly agreed with me- few would disagree, except perhaps a Veela.

I then turned back to the boy and wished he would look at Severus so I could see his full profile. Nevertheless, I had already formed some conclusions based on his side profile, and decided to share my observations with Severus.

"He is unnaturally attractive, isn't he?" I muttered as I peered at him. "_Somewhat_ reminiscent of a Veela, but he does not possess the blonde hair associated with their species, and of course, he is not female," I added with a chuckle.

"Could he be a related species of the Veela?" Severus suggested, and I was glad that he was willing to share his ideas with me; two heads are always better than one after all.

I nodded my head. "He could be," I agreed, but for some strange reason, I felt it unlikely. "His eyes are unusually bright and unblemished," I observed further as I leaned part way onto the bench to study them again. "No odd flecks or different shades of gold around his irises. They are otherwise human-like," I allowed, "except the mere fact that they lack the imperfections that _all _humans, including wizards, have."

Finally the boy turned towards Severus and asked: "What are you trying to forget?"

Despite my prior intentions to comprehend every word that was shared between them, I was ashamed to realise that all my attention had been absorbed with the boy's appearance. Nevertheless, the boy's question seemed strange to me, and thus engendered my attention. I momentarily grieved over missing the context from which the boy's question arose, but that was soon forgotten as I became absorbed with the boy's appearance once again.

Front on, the boy's face was, as far as my eyes could determine, completely symmetrical. His skin was smooth and undamaged. It was the _purest _colour ofwhite without a single blemish or blush upon his face that was anything other than the very same shade of white.

"Did you ever touch his skin?" I asked Severus without looking at him.

"No," Severus replied immediately as if my question was ridiculous. "Why?"

I turned to glance at him over my shoulder. "I wonder if it _feels_ like skin-"

"Of course it's skin," Severus objected.

"In the functional sense, yes, but I doubt his skin feels or works the same way as ours does… it looks like marble," I observed as I watched the dim lights in the bar reflect off of his 'flesh'. I wished I could touch him to see if my guess was correct.

"Perhaps," Severus dismissed.

I could tell Severus was losing interest in my hypotheses, so I decided to question him about his own opinion of the boy.

Turning around to face him, I asked: "What were your impressions when you first saw him?"

Severus looked at me seriously. "I felt his presence was almost God-like," he muttered. "It is lost in the Pensieve, but his air seemed to reflect an invisible power-"

"In what sense?" I interjected, intrigued by Severus' evaluation.

"Physical power," he clarified, "and perhaps a magical power too," he shrugged.

I nodded my head as I studied the boy again; I could imagine what Severus had said. Perhaps his species exuded a scent or a power that can be felt by humans to either engender our trust, to warn us of their strength, or perhaps both. It was an intriguing possibility.

I was about to observe the way the boy tended to move in a calculative-manner on his stool, when Severus' past self yelled: "Why do you _want _to?"

I felt my eyebrows rise in surprise both by Severus' outburst and my complete inability to both listen _and_ evaluate in the presence of this boy.

"Severus?" I questioned my companion. I turned to look at him, but he did not answer me; he was watching his past self so intensely it was as if I were invisible and mute to him.

Only then did I pay the guilt-ridden, grieving Severus any attention. I had carelessly neglected observing _him. _He looked tired and slightly unsteady on his stool. I was not sure how much he had drunk at that point, but he otherwise did not look or sound significantly intoxicated. Immediately I felt for him though; this was the side of Severus I had expected to see in my office, but somehow the mysterious boy must have dragged it out of him the night before. If I was correct, then I wanted to hear every strategy the boy used to make this happen; I knew I would need to talk to Severus about Lily in the future, so any form of assistance, even from a stranger, was more than welcome.

After convincing myself that an evaluation of the boy's species could occur once the memory had ended, I focused all of my attention on their conversation. I hoped I had not missed anything too significant, otherwise I would have difficulty understanding the impact this boy had on Severus and his grieving over Lily.

"Never tried and never intend to," the past Severus asserted. "And I'll be damned if I sit here listening to you talk about your life. Speak to the bartender instead, that's why he's here; to listen to pathetic people like you," he continued scathingly.

Although I could not say I knew Severus well at that point, I did know that neither talking about nor listening to other people's problems was his 'cup of tea' at the best of times, let alone during perhaps the worst night of his life. The present day Severus still seemed to be livid that the boy was so intent on making him talk. I wondered whether Severus later reflected more positively on the boy's persistence knowing the vital information he would later provide us.

Nevertheless, I was glad that Severus was being somewhat confrontational with the boy; I was curious to see this creature's reaction when provoked. The boy silently stared at Severus, but I did not feel he was at risk of being attacked… yet. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the bartender went to say something, but the boy merely held up his hand to halt him. Still, he remained silent as if waiting for Severus to retract his comment or apologise.

While the boy remained calm, perhaps dangerously so, I could see that Severus was contemplating how to react to his intense watchfulness. I saw him briefly reach for his wand, but he then seemed to think the better of it, and left it in his robes.

I vigilantly observed the environment around me; I did not want to miss what happened next. So it surprised me when I heard a gasp that seemed to come from outside. Immediately I turned towards the door as did the boy and the present-day Severus. I moved closer to the entrance so I was standing directly in front of the boy's gaze as he continued to look in that direction. He appeared alarmed as if he saw something terrifying, but then seconds later his face relaxed, but his eyes were tight in concentration. What he was reacting to was a complete mystery to me.

"Someone must be outside," Severus whispered to me. I turned to him- his face was one of concern. "I heard it clearly just then. Last night, I could not be sure what I heard," he explained himself.

"Completely understandable," I reassured him. "Perhaps, as the conversation continues, we will gain further hints about who is out there."

"Probably his sister."

"Most likely," I agreed.

I could not explain why the boy looked towards the door for so long- perhaps he was expecting his sister to intervene? In any case, when he turned back to look at Severus, he gently asked: "Do you think I am pathetic?"

I was surprised the boy portrayed genuine curiosity; he did not sound even remotely offended at being called such a word. Perhaps he suspected what Severus had almost extracted from his robes and did not want to provoke him.

"Yes, just drink your damn drink and be done with it!" the past Severus yelled in frustration.

"With what?" the boy asked; he looked confused.

"Your talking! No one cares about your life!" Severus hissed through his teeth. I wondered why Severus was being so cruel to the boy; I had not imagined him to be so confrontational while he grieved.

"No one? Or just you?" the boy fired back, his eyes narrowing as he challenged him. Naturally, Severus' insult was impossible to prove, so he remained silent, though I could imagine him seething beneath his cool exterior.

"I wonder…" the boy continued when it was clear Severus was not going to answer him. "Whether anyone cares about your life?"

This, I felt, was quite a personal question to ask a stranger. Curious to know how Severus answered, I turned to look at both Severuses. To my surprise, the present day Severus had his back towards us. Before I could say his name to revert his attention back to me, the past Severus replied with confidence: "No, no one does."

_Oh Severus, _I thought sadly.

"Perhaps they would if they knew you," the boy pointed out as if trying to cheer him up. I smiled when I heard the boy's testament- it was exactly what I would have suggested to Severus. It saddened me when I realised a second later that I would have disagreed with the boy a few weeks ago.

"Has our little discussion in this bar convinced you that I am someone worth knowing?" Severus demanded of the boy, his tone thick with sarcasm. Severus' guilt seemed to prevent him from perceiving himself worthy of anything.

I expected the boy to insist that Severus was worth knowing, but instead he shrugged his shoulders and informed Severus that he 'does not make a habit of judging people before he gets to know them'.

I gazed into his eyes and felt that he was telling the truth. Perhaps this boy was one of those unique individuals who were willing to give everyone a chance.

_Much like myself, perhaps? _I smiled at the thought.

"Well you can be certain I am not worth your attention or worth knowing, so do not waste your time speaking with me!" Severus replied forcefully.

My companion had definitely made the boy fight to be heard. I wanted to believe that Severus would have said _anything_ to deter the boy from speaking with him, but I knew that he was actually vocalising his _perceived_ truth: he was worthless now.

"I do not perceive this to be a waste of time," the boy said seriously. To reflect this, he turned to his right to glance at Severus. His face suggested he was slightly offended; given the reason he was talking to Severus at all was in an attempt to save our world, I was not surprised. From that moment, I felt a renewed sense of respect for this young creature who seemed determined to inform Severus of what his sister had Seen.

"Well you are wasting mine," Severus said through his teeth, and I saw his skin pale in anger. "Pour me another," he demanded of the bartender who did not hesitate to obey him.

"Easier to drink than face life, isn't it?" the boy philosophised as he nodded his head towards Severus' glass which was being held tightly in its owner's hand.

"What would you know of it?" Severus replied after he slammed the glass down on the counter. It seemed like the recently consumed alcohol had already gone to Severus' head; his words were beginning to slur and he seemed to have momentarily lost control over his actions; he had just encouraged the boy to talk after all.

"I told you before that I have made mistakes in my life-"

I could not believe I missed hearing this part of their conversation and was about to ask Severus what he had said, when the past Severus interrupted me and the boy.

"Were you a truant? Did you knock up a girl?" he sneered, and I knew he felt the boy's transgressions could never compare to his.

When the boy smiled wryly with a slight hint of mischievousness, I hoped the question I was going to ask Severus was about to be answered.

"No, manslaughter actually," he said matter-of-factly.

_Goodness, _I thought; I had not expected this, and yet it provided an interesting parallel to Severus' own _perceived _transgressions. Aside from his supernatural appearance and having a powerful Seer for a sister, this fact made the boy far more interesting than I could have hoped.

Understandably, fear and shock were clearly expressed on both the bartender and Severus' faces. However, my present companion appeared contemplative- his fear of the boy no longer seemed to concern him now that he was unable to be harmed.

"You seem surprised," the boy answered as if his accidently killing someone should not be a shock to anyone. "Why?"

I found this a strange question to ask; surely it was expected that Severus be shocked, and yet the boy seemed to be normalising the act of manslaughter. It made me question whether he knew _why_ Severus was drinking heavily _before_ speaking with him; as far as I could tell, Severus had yet to tell the boy why he was consuming copious amounts of alcohol.

"You do not appear to be old enough to commit such a crime," Severus reasoned in an attempt to justify his reaction. I agreed with Severus; this was also one of the forethoughts in my mind, as well as the boy's apparent disregard for the common etiquette that suggests one should not admit to something like that in front of strangers.

My curiosity was piqued when the boy remained silent and instead _smiled _at Severus. He soon averted his eyes to the ground, and I thought he felt he had expressed his joy too openly. I shivered when the boy began to laugh. The timbre of his voice was beautiful, and yet, it also portrayed the power and danger Severus had alluded to before.

Again Severus reached for his wand which halted the boy's laughter immediately. When the boy lifted his head again, his expression was neutral, but I could tell that despite his laughter, he took his crime seriously, and now intended to respond to Severus in kind.

"I am older than I look. And despite my appearance, I _have _killed innocent people, and life was unbearable for a time… until I realised I could make a difference- make amends for the lives I took," he said slowly and gently as if he wanted to make sure that Severus understood and believed every word he said.

I could not help but believe him too; the earnest expression upon his face told me that he had experienced a pain, though perhaps not one as significant as Severus'. The parallels were uncanny- I was certain the boy must have known Severus' role in the Potters' deaths prior to entering the pub. Why else would he be alluding to it through his _own _experiences? Again, I hoped the content of their conversation would eventually enlighten me.

"It is impossible to replace someone's life," Severus spat, ever rigid in the literal rules that govern our world, "no matter how sorry you may be, some deaths are _unforgiveable_," Severus informed the boy, and I knew he believed his part in Lily's was the one to which he referred.

I turned to look at Severus, who was staring at his past self. I saw, or perhaps hoped I saw, tears in his eyes. I hoped he would be able to forgive himself one day- I knew that now was too soon for him as it would be for anyone in his position.

In response to Severus' comment, the boy tilted his head to the side and then vocalised a highly astute observation: that perhaps Severus had killed someone too.

To my surprise, Severus immediately nodded his head. "Three people."

Slightly puzzled, I looked towards my companion again; it seemed he believed all three of the Potters were dead at this time, so why did he think to ask me whether Harry survived?

I quickly shared my thoughts with Severus, who replied rapidly under his breath: "You'll find out."

As I continued to observe the conversation that was taking place, I wondered whether Severus' knowing that Harry survived would have relieved some of his self-loathing. But given Lily remained dead either way, I suppose that would have been unlikely.

Again the boy reacted as if killing three people, intentionally or not, was a normal occurrence. However, when he admitted to killing eight individuals I could not help but exclaim: "Goodness!" for I had expected only one victim, not eight.

"Tonight?" Severus blurted out, and I could see by the look on his face that he was beginning to panic.

To my astonishment, the boy smiled at Severus, but unlike the one he gave before which was followed by a laugh, this one was crooked, more attractive, and reflected genuine pleasure.

"No, but everyday I try to make amends for the loss of their lives."

Again I could not help but believe him. It made me wonder whether his silent ability to convince was a facet of his species or merely a feature of his unique personality.

I also wondered how he restored balance in the world after taking eight lives. In Severus' case, Harry's survival provided him with an obvious means towards redemption. Surely this boy could not have been similarly lucky eight times over?

Braver than I would have felt in his situation, Severus asked with what appeared to be genuine curiosity: "Is there a point to this conversation? Did you come here to scare me?" This comment reminded me of the true reason why the boy was here- why was it even necessary to confide so much in Severus when the boy could have simply told him about his sister's prediction? Perhaps he had other plans in mind? Perhaps he wanted to help Severus feel better? If this were true, I wondered whether other members of his species are similarly inclined to be caring towards humans.

"I can see you are not," the boy concluded, even though I was beyond certain that Severus was terrified, "though perhaps you ought to be," he continued once again producing the same crooked smile. I felt he was simply joking- that he would not go so far as to hurt Severus. However, my observations so far suggested that he _could _have injured Severus if he wanted to.

Severus stared at the boy for some time, and I noticed that whilst being scrutinised, the boy remained unnaturally still as if waiting for Severus' judgement of him.

"From what you have said, it sounds like you repent the crimes you committed, so at present, I have no reason to fear you," Severus eventually said calmly, but I could tell by his physical rigidity and wary gaze that he did in fact fear the boy. I did not blame him in the slightest.

"Then you have made a wise judgement. You have no reason to fear me," the boy tried to reassure Severus. "Perhaps you should try to forgive yourself for whatever crime you feel you have done."

Again this concept of forgiveness... why was the boy so insistent that Severus end his self-loathing when the woman he loved died mere hours ago? Surely time was all Severus would need, and yet, the boy seemed to think time was limited… or unobtainable.

Unexpectedly, Severus gave the boy a grim smile, and then looked away from him, his wariness of the boy, forgotten.

"Self-forgiveness is impossible for me," Severus whispered. "I killed someone I love."

"If I had it may have been easier to work out how to make things right-" the boy said, perhaps trying to highlight the only potential positive in what had happened to Severus.

"Her family are dead," Severus countered instantly. His statement, although far from humorous, made me smile. I turned to look at my companion, who ignored my gaze. The twitch of his mouth suggested he had noticed me and I hoped that knowing Harry still lived made his way forward clearer for him.

"If you loved her, why did you kill her?" the boy asked gently, and I could tell he did not mean to sound insensitive by his question.

"It was an accident, thus the manslaughter," Severus reminded the boy in a forceful tone.

"It wasn't your fault, Severus," I told him seriously.

"Don't start me, Albus," Severus muttered under his breath as he continued to stare at his past self. Even though he did not look at me, I watched him carefully wondering if his perception of being at fault was the reason he was unable to forgive himself. If this were true, it would not be difficult to convince him that others, such as Tom, were far more accountable and worthy of the blame- not him.

"And you blame yourself for her death?" the boy asked.

"There is no one else to blame!" Severus shouted at the boy, but I felt, by the way the present day Severus was looking at me, that this was exactly what he wanted to yell at me too.

"Tom did this," I reminded him. "Not you."

As if to reflect my statement, however impossible, the boy replied: "That doesn't mean it was your fault."

I turned away from Severus to face the boy, my eyes wide in surprise and disbelief. Had I heard correctly? The look on both Severuses' faces informed me that I was not mistaken; the boy's voice had a beautiful musical quality to it now. The past Severus had lowered his head to stare at his drink, clearly feeling uncomfortable.

_What had the boy tried to do?_

"I think he was trying to calm me," Severus spoke in a neutral tone, unknowingly answering my silent question.

"Did it work?" I asked, flabbergasted.

Severus reluctantly nodded. "Not enough for me to believe him though," he whispered under his breath.

For a moment I pondered whether this boy's singing had an equal power to any human who would sing to soothe an infant, or whether it originated from the magic that was inherent in his species.

_Interesting…_

"Do you believe it was intentional on his part?" I asked Severus.

He paused for a minute as he stared blankly at the boy who, for some unknown reason, was looking towards the door once again.

"Yes."

"What makes you think that?"

Severus looked at me then, and a moment later, he shrugged. However, the brief dart of his eyes and his watery gaze told me that he had a valid and insightful explanation for his answer.

A couple more minutes passed before the boy resumed his presence within the room again. I had no clue what function staring at the door played for him, but I was certain he was somehow silently communicating with someone on the other side. I would have walked through the door to investigate, but I would not be able to see anything given that whoever it was was not featured in Severus' memory. Whatever the boy had done or heard during those brief minutes had strengthened his resolve; he appeared even more determined that Severus talk about his feelings.

"What are you going to do about it?"

I looked at the boy carefully wondering what he hoped to achieve by asking such a vague question. Perhaps… perhaps his sister had told him to ask such a question in order to lead him to the outcome he wanted- whatever that was.

Severus shrugged at the boy

"Surely there is something you can do to make things right again?" he encouraged Severus, but it appeared that the grieved man had had enough.

"Perhaps you feel your actions may have righted the imbalance you created in the world by killing eight innocent people, but there is _nothing _I can do to redeem myself of this mistake," Severus hissed through his teeth, but I also sensed a desperation in his voice as if he wanted the boy to understand what he had done, realise it was irreversible, and then leave him alone.

"Or mend your heart," the boy added, his bright honey coloured eyes staring into Severus', and again his tone was soothing, even to me.

"He seems to understand you, Severus," I commented. Somehow I knew this boy- this creature understood Severus in a way I could not.

I felt the boy's open acknowledgement of Severus' broken heart left the latter feeling vulnerable; this boy was probably the first to openly acknowledge Severus' love for Lily Potter.

The present Severus was watching the boy in a strange way, part in wonder and the other in loathing. Only recently had _I_ discovered how much I had misunderstood Severus' character and his feelings. For this complete stranger to understand and respect him almost from the very beginning, it made sense that Severus was simultaneously touched and frustrated.

"What are you going to do?" the boy whispered after a few seconds.

"Nothing," Severus replied dismissively. I already had Severus' promise that he would help protect Harry, otherwise I would have informed him kindly that 'doing nothing helps no one', and then list the options available to him.

"You will let her death go to waste?" the boy asked in disbelief.

"Nothing could ever be gained from her death! Don't you dare speak of things you do not understand! Her life has been wasted, nothing I can do could ever change that," Severus choked out, and I could hear that he was becoming emotional. I knew Severus would not be willing to tell the boy exactly what he had done, for secrecy reasons if nothing else, but ultimately the boy could never fully understand him without knowing the truth.

Yet, I felt compelled to say: "Death is not always pointless, Severus. And I have a feeling this boy understands more about that than he ever admits to during this conversation." Of course, I had not lived through the entirety of Severus' memory yet, but there was another element of knowledge that this boy was _not_ sharing- his understanding of Severus, a man who _I_ have found to be extremely skilled at hiding his true feelings and intentions since he was a child, was hauntingly deep and accurate.

Severus merely shrugged at my comment, but I could tell he was contemplating whether I was correct.

"There must be something, and when you find it you could channel your energy, your grief, your remorse, your love, into doing that thing for her- something that might matter," the boy continued to encourage Severus.

_Like protecting her son, _I automatically thought to myself. It made me wonder whether the boy had similar intentions for Severus- what did _he_ believe Severus could do to redeem himself?

"There is nothing," Severus insisted, "her child and husband are dead."

The boy's eyebrows rose, and it was clear to me, though perhaps not to the intoxicated Severus at the time, that he knew Severus was wrong… but _how _could he _possibly _know that?

"There must be a way; everything is able to be balanced."

I nodded my head; my thoughts exactly- there is always possibility for redemption.

"Why can't you accept that such balance is impossible for some of us? We cannot all be as lucky as you!" Severus snapped, his face briefly turning pale with rage. After taking a couple of quick breaths, he continued. "And perhaps I don't want to be forgiven."

"Then how will you live with your pain?" the boy asked, his eyes narrowed with curiosity.

"I won't."

Multiple interpretations of those two simple words flitted through my mind as I turned around to look at the present-day Severus.

He refused to look at me; he did not want to talk about it. _This _was why he did not want to tell me what else was discussed between him and the boy; he wanted to keep _this_ aspect of their conversation hidden from me.

As I replayed Severus' statement in my mind again, I realised I already had my answer; the sense of hopelessness and worthlessness in Severus' tone told me that his statement was literal.

Instantly, many of my questions were answered, such as why the boy had shared personal anecdotes from his life, and the constant references he made to forgiveness. However, this significant piece of information also triggered _further_ questions and hypotheses.

Could _this _be part of the future the boy's sister had Seen?

How could it be that _this_ Severus was the very same individual who met me tonight to seek guidance with such calm restraint?

Within seconds, my guess was confirmed; for the first time since he left Hogwarts, I saw the past Severus' eyes fill with tears.

I wanted to turn around to comfort the present Severus, given I could do nothing to relieve the one in the memory, but I was captivated by the boy's face. He looked miserable and sad. Briefly he moved his hand towards Severus as if to comfort him or perhaps apologise for so openly alluding to his true intentions that night. The past Severus was brave enough to keep watching the boy, who glanced back in a sympathetic manner. Eventually Severus lost his nerve (understandably- it would have been difficult to look in the boy's eyes for more than a couple of seconds), and averted his gaze towards his lap.

Once Severus looked away, the boy turned towards the door again; perhaps somehow seeking his sister's advice on what to do or say next.

"You can't forgive yourself?" he eventually whispered into the silent bar.

I saw Severus stare at the boy as if he had proposed something ludicrous.

"Of course not," he hissed through his teeth, clearly frustrated with the boy's persistence in the matter.

"You don't believe you deserve it?" the boy asked hopefully, and yet I was certain he must have known that talking further about it would not alter Severus' choice.

Severus looked as if he were about to shout at the boy, his neck jutting out in instinctive denial. But then his eyes glazed over, and I knew he was reminiscing about something or was otherwise lost in thought.

I watched the boy to see how he would react to Severus' abnormal change in behaviour, I expected him to appear confused. Instead, the boy cringed and averted his gaze from Severus' face for a second or two. His reaction seemed so disconnected from what was happening in the room, that_ I_ was the one left feeling bewildered.

"Do you remember what you were thinking at that moment?" I asked Severus quickly, in an attempt to rule out Severus' reminiscence as having _anything _ to do with it.

Severus remained impassive for a number of seconds. Finally, he replied in a neutral, detached manner: "I was remembering the moment I found Lily's body."

"Did you notice the boy cringe?" I persisted, my heart racing at the possibility that the boy had _sensed_ the pain Severus was experiencing in that precise moment of recollection.

"Yes. At the time I thought he was reacting to my facial expression. I see now that my face did not betray me; it must have been something else. Perhaps his sister said something we didn't hear?"

I nodded, but I was not fully aware of what I was agreeing to; I felt the boy was reacting to Severus' feelings or perhaps his memory… _somehow. _It was too much of a coincidence.

"I can see you love her," the boy said when Severus did not respond. "But your actions cannot be as terrible as you say they are. Her death was an accident after all."

I found the boy's statement interesting because I had _seen_ little of Severus' love for Lily during this conversation: What did _he_ see than I could not?

Again Severus seemed beyond speaking, however his glare and the thin line of his lips told me that he was close to losing his patience entirely.

Sensing Severus' disapproval, the boy sat up straighter in his chair as if to detach himself from whatever strange connection he shared with Severus, and then continued to speak in a more formal tone.

"Of course, I cannot stop you from doing what you feel you must. I wanted to do something similar when I killed all those people too. But then I remembered there was more to my life than just me, that there were people who would miss me if I died."

The boy quickly glanced towards the door again. This was the final piece of evidence I needed to know that his sister, at the very least, was standing just outside. What I would have given to see her; any similarities and differences between them could have helped me towards determining their species.

"No one would notice if I died," Severus stated dismissively.

"I am certain someone would."

"They would notice, but they would not care," Severus clarified.

"I would have, Severus," I told my companion solemnly; I could not imagine what it would be like to function everyday believing that no one cared whether I lived or died.

"And of all the things you would have done in the future, all the people you would have met and affected in years to come? Will you deprive them of your presence?"

The boy continued to press, his voice rising slightly in volume.

I was astonished to hear Severus laugh at this, perhaps because my immediate reaction to hearing the boy's rhetorical questions were so different from his at the time.

_Is this boy suggesting what I __think __he is suggesting? _

The possibility was both shocking and satisfying to me regardless of its truth.

_I will have to wait and see._

"Deprive them of my hate? My bitterness? They would be better off without me."

"No, we wouldn't," I responded automatically to the past Severus, only realising an instant later that he was not able to hear me.

The boy also seemed inclined to protest as I had, but was interrupted as Severus talked loudly over him.

"And even if I was able to influence countless lives in a positive way, as you are suggesting, it would not be worth the years of pain."

This gave me pause- it had to. I knew that Severus' abilities were invaluable to me, to Harry, to our world, but I also knew that _if _Severus _never_ forgave himself for the near blameless part he played in Lily's death, contentment would likely evade him forever and he would suffer.

To my surprise, the boy, who knew Severus far less than I, echoed my sentiments:

"I suppose so," he agreed, "the happiness of others is not worth your sanity."

"I am not capable of providing anyone with happiness," Severus said matter-of-factly.

I feel ashamed to admit that my immediate response was to agree with him, not because I felt Severus had nothing to provide, which was far from true, but because I never associated Severus with _being_ happy, not even when he was a student. But providing others with knowledge was an equally valuable gift to that of happiness, and I knew Severus had plenty of _that _to give if he was willing.

"Mmm perhaps, but that does not mean you would not be important to them- that you wouldn't have a purpose in their lives," the boy tried to reason with Severus.

_Such as preventing a town from being subjected to slavery? _I thought with a grim smile. Observing Severus' memory knowing what the boy would eventually reveal was an unusual, yet valuable experience. This meant that at this stage of their conversation, I could see, which Severus could not have done, what the boy was alluding to.

"I would only make them miserable."

"Or you may keep them _alive; _you could save others even though you couldn't save _her._"

_I must be right… no wonder this boy was so persistent with Severus despite his gallant efforts to dissuade him. Bless him._

I couldn't help but smile at the boy while Severus asked: "What are you suggesting?"

"That every human life has a purpose."

Although I believed this to be true, I knew the boy really meant that _Severus'_ life had a greater purpose than the one he intended for himself.

_I knew it._

"If that were so, then Lily's was to die because of my mistake. What was the purpose of that?" Severus demanded of the boy, a question that perhaps only I (for the time being) had the ability to partially answer.

"I am certain the purpose of her life was not to die at your hand- perhaps her purpose was fulfilled before her death?" the boy suggested, and I noticed his eyes twinkling in the light of the bar.

I felt simultaneously intrigued and horrified that the boy's philosophising was dangerously close to the truth, but surely he could not _know_ this? It was impossible, surely?

"Be silent!" Severus snapped at the boy.

"He knows more than I ever told him- more than his sister could have known," the present-day Severus muttered deductively.

"I agree," I replied readily.

"So is your purpose to die tonight? Is that why you were born? To destroy her and then kill yourself?" the boy yelled suddenly; apparently Severus' shouted demand had minimal impact on him. I sensed that the evident failure of his plan was becoming apparent to the boy, and I could not blame him for becoming frustrated with the contradictions that lived within Severus' depression and grief.

In response to the boy's bluntness, I heard someone or perhaps more than one person admonish him from beyond the pub.

"Edward!"

Or at least, this was the name I thought I heard. It was evident by this stage that the boy's hearing was significantly superior to mine. Nevertheless, 'Edward' was the name my mind matched with the sound I heard. It provided me with some comfort to have a name to call him (even if it was wrong) as it seemed far more respectful than continuously referring to him as 'the boy'.

There was no time to ask Severus whether he also heard the boy's name, but a brief glimpse towards his face told me that his full attention was with the conversation that was heatedly taking place between his past self and 'Edward'.

"Yes, what else have I done with my life?" Severus shouted, his body now shaking with rage and remorse.

I moved slightly towards this Severus wishing I could remind him of all he _had_ done for Lily even if it was not enough to save her.

"Are you incapable of seeing the potential good you have done? To love someone as you do- you cannot be as evil or as uncaring as you claim to be!" Edward continued, his voice still rose with impatience.

And of course, the boy was right.

"I do not know what you believe you understand about me, but I demand you to stop! You know nothing of my life or hers- do not make assumptions about what it is like to be me!" Severus screamed at Edward, his breathing ragged as he tried to take calming breaths.

Despite Severus' certainty that the boy did not understand him, I knew that somehow the boy was _not_ making any assumptions; Edward was right and he knew it.

Naturally, the boy wanted to interrupt Severus; his mouth was open preparing to say something that likely reflected what I was thinking. But then he remained silent, and instead closed his mouth and tilted his head towards the door again. I moved quickly towards the exit to see if I could hear anything, but there was silence. Given the number of times Edward had given his undivided attention towards someone outside of the pub, I concluded they were whispering to him so only he could hear.

His species _must_ possess superhuman hearing.

Within seconds, the boy's face had relaxed, but he was rubbing his temples with his pale fingers- Edward was distressed about something, and I knew the truth was about to be revealed. In anticipation, I moved back towards both Severuses, interested to hear how the boy broached such a powerful, yet sensitive subject with the wizard in front him.

Apparently resigned to informing Severus of the future he seemed compelled to share, Edward closed his eyes and took a single breath to calm himself down.

When Edward opened his eyes, he stared at Severus, his gaze unwavering and determined.

"Do you believe in fortune tellers?"

I chuckled softly. _Excellent… and so the truth begins to unfold. _

"Yes," Severus replied immediately.

Edward's posture seemed to relax slightly; I imagined him thinking: 'So far so good'.

"My sister has the ability to see the future of those around her," he explained, and then paused to scan Severus' body and face. "I came into this pub tonight to try to change your mind. I see I have failed," the boy confessed, his eyes downcast in true sadness.

"Ever since you walked in here you have been lying to me," Severus accused him, but I could see in the sincerity of the boy's countenance and gaze that he had been honest from the start and had no need to lie about his intentions or his past demeanours.

Edward, who had endured Severus' rudeness and negativity for over half an hour, did not seem pleased to be called a liar, and instantly the colour of his eyes turned to a dark gold. I moved slightly to my right to see if this was a trick of the lights, but it was not. No matter which way I moved or the angle at which I gazed at him, the boy's eyes had definitely darkened. With the shadow of his irises also came a noticeable darkening of his face even though his skin remained a gleaming white. Somehow, the boy now appeared more closely related to a demon than a perfectly featured human.

Despite what I could only imagine was a deep-seated anger or offence, the boy kept a calm tone as he patiently replied:

"No, I was not lying to you. I hoped my personal experiences would have provoked you to see there are other options than ending your life."

"Says the attractive kid who got away with killing eight people!" Severus ejaculated powerfully, gesturing aggressively at the boy.

_I wonder how Edward __did__ escape punishment for all those deaths…_

Five seconds slipped by, and I was shocked the boy had not noticed that Severus had used his appearance against him. I then blinked and Edward was an inch from Severus' face, clearly hostile and aggravated. He would have taken only a couple of steps, but I felt his reaction could not have been triggered by Severus' accusation because it was so delayed. But what else _could _he have reacted to?

Severus stumbled away from Edward, his eyes wide as he stared into the boy's near black ones.

"It took a while for him to react to you," I said out loud, wondering if Severus had any thoughts on the matter.

Severus shook his head in wonder.

"I have noticed that there are several puzzling things about this kid," he uttered, never taking his eyes off the boy in front of us.

"Will you share them with me?" I asked eagerly; perhaps he noticed something I had not. Unfortunately the fast pace of their conversation meant that any detailed discussion would need to wait until we returned to Hogwarts.

"After," he said dismissively to ensure I was silent for when he next spoke in his memory.

"Why didn't your sister come in here to tell me this?" Severus asked quickly, almost stumbling over his words as he tried to distract the boy from injuring him, which he looked close to doing.

Severus' plan seemed to work. Immediately, Edward's face changed and he looked calmer. He walked backwards a couple of steps to give Severus a six foot space between them.

"She wanted to, but I would not let her because I knew you would most likely be drunk. I didn't want her to get hurt," he explained, and I could see that he cared for his sister deeply.

"Well please do thank her for wanting to inform me that my suicide plan will be a success," Severus announced sarcastically.

To hear him say the word 'suicide' made the reality of his intentions last night powerfully real to me; I could hardly believe the same man was standing next to me now, and it seemed I had Edward to thank for that. I knew Severus was vital to the battle that would one day take place between the dark and 'good' sides of our world. I do not know what would have happened to us if Edward had chosen not to intervene in the future of our world.

"Your future was not the one she saw," the boy said seriously, but I could see he was slightly amused by Severus' assumption.

"Then whose was it?" Severus asked shakily.

"Your neighbours'," Edward revealed casually as he indicated to the street that fronted the pub. "Their future is that of slavery and severe punishment-"

"That is not my concern-" Severus objected immediately, apparently indifferent to further loss of life.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the bartender move. He had remained so silent and stationary throughout the entire memory that I had almost forgotten he was there. However, when he shifted on his stool, I knew he was concerned by Severus' indifference for he could be one of the 'neighbours' Edward was referring to.

"_This _became their future when you changed the means of ending your life," Edward said pointedly, his eyes lit up with determination.

_I knew it. _I smiled as I briefly recalled the subtle hints Edward planted throughout their conversation- _everything_ he said led up to this revelation. I had the distinct feeling he hoped this would be enough to motivate Severus to continue living.

Severus was staring at the boy in shock, and I could understand his amazement. Not only was Edward's statement extraordinary, but his sister had a tremendous gift; even our best Seers cannot See the consequences of an individual's actions.

"Somehow _you _were the difference between their freedom and their capture," Edward continued, clearly emphasising how Severus was vital to the lives of others.

I briefly turned to look at Severus who, like his past self, was staring at the boy in disbelief. I could easily imagine how he was feeling; anyone who was told they had this much impact on the future would react in a similar manner. But unlike Severus, I could see numerous possibilities. The fact that Severus could save his town from Tom was the tip of the iceberg; I suspected he was capable of much more. I chuckled in anticipation of what the future will hold for Severus, and I looked forward to watching him find his place and value in our world once again.

Edward's statement was a gift; it reassured me that I was correct: Severus was essential to Tom's downfall. Losing Severus was no longer an option.

"That is impossible- you are lying," Severus eventually managed to articulate after a few seconds.

The boy's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I promise you I am not. I speak the truth. However you may perceive your life, there must be something good in you- something good you do in the future that spares these people from a terrible existence!" the boy shouted in desperation.

I walked closer to the boy to see if I could discover just by looking at him, why he was so emotionally invested in a town where he clearly did not live. Or perhaps he was just stubborn? But the longer I watched him, the more apparent it became that Edward was suffering somehow- that Severus choosing to take his life would hurt him.

_Who is this boy?_

"Their lives are not worth my own. I will not continue to live in this _Hell _in the hope that one day I could help people I don't even know. Besides, you are likely wrong; slavery is a thing of the past," Severus tried to reason with the boy, but of course, I already knew it would be pointless.

Edward straightened his posture as he continued to stand a safe distance from Severus. He examined Severus' face as if in search of valuable information.

"You know of whom I speak," he stated in a smooth whisper, "you know who has the capacity to place these people into slavery and torture them!"

I found myself staring at the boy once again, my mouth slightly open.

_Could he know? Perhaps somehow he heard… about Tom._

_Goodness._

Severus, who must have formulated the same conclusion as me, reached into his robes and subtly held his wand. Edward, who always seemed to be aware of Severus' every action, saw what his companion had done. I expected him to raise his hands (perhaps expecting a gun, or worse, a wand), but instead he crouched down and walked slowly towards the door as if Severus was a wild carnivorous animal.

"He's dead," Severus hissed at the gradually retreating boy.

"Are you sure?" Edward challenged Severus with far more confidence than he should have given he was not there to witness Tom's downfall and did not understand the intricacies of magic.

Nevertheless, it was clear that he knew Tom would be back, even though most of the wizarding community would have assumed he was dead as Severus had. Did his sister _See_ Tom in her memory? If so, perhaps neither of them knew that he had apparently 'died' that night in the confrontation with the Potters. But now that Severus has informed him, however indirectly, that Tom 'died', Edward's certainty _should_ have wavered. How could he believe his sister's vision so fully when someone from our world was clearly informing him that the wizard to which he referred, perished?

"Of course he's dead!" Severus insisted; the alternative was too terrifying for him to comprehend both for his future and that of his world.

"And if he isn't? What if you are wrong?" the boy persisted.

"I could not care less."

I instinctively turned to look at Severus again and raised my eyebrows at him. I knew he cared, even when he was in the midst of the darkest Hell. Evidently, caring hurt too much… it prevented him from being at peace.

Edward was watching Severus carefully, clearly trying to determine if Severus was as heartless and selfish as he sounded.

Eventually he said: "Grief is painful," in a gentle tone. For some reason he was moving closer towards the door even though Severus had released his wand. "I can see how much you miss her. Death would be the easier way out. I understand that." The boy then sighed, but he maintained eye contact with Severus. "I wanted you to know that your life will be worth something to many, even if they do not know it. But you know it now. Do not take your life unless you are certain it is not worth living. Please," the boy was begging now, and the sincerity in his voice touched me. And once again, Edward sounded as if he were singing gently to Severus- his voice was undeniably beautiful and enchanting.

"I have no choice!" Severus shouted at the boy, and I really felt for my companion and how worthless he must have felt to say that death was his only option.

"You do," Edward insisted in gentle song.  
"No, you _do not _understand!" Severus cried back, and I could see tears forming in his eyes. "I cannot live like this!" he screamed.

_Oh Severus…_

Only then did I realise how amazing it was that Severus managed to meet with me at all.

"Please, try," Edward begged again, and I felt a twinge of compassion for the boy when I saw his eyes become watery; he was upset too. As to why, I had no idea; it should not have mattered so much to him. Perhaps he felt guilty for upsetting Severus? He seemed the sensitive type.

A moment later, Edward left the pub. It seemed strangely difficult for him, almost as if he were fighting against an invisible pull towards the door. He seemed reluctant to leave, so why did he? Did he need to go somewhere? I looked at Severus and saw him watching after the boy as if hoping he would return.

I glanced at the bar and noticed Edward had not touched his drink- in fact, I never saw him sip it. So much for wanting to drink… perhaps he was lying about that, and yet I had no doubt he has had a difficult past for someone so young.

I caught Severus' eye so I could inform him of my intention to leave the Pensieve; we could talk in more detail back in my office.

Severus nodded his head in silence, his eyes transfixed on one of the windows that gave a view of the street.

I decided to give him some time within his own memory to gather his thoughts.

As I rose from the Pensieve, I realised that I was hardly any closer to determining what Edward was, though I was almost certain his species was either rare or not traditionally from our part of the world. Further research was most definitely required, and the first step towards clarity was to contemplate the close, emotional connection Edward seemed to have with Severus.

As I walked behind my desk in preparation for Severus' arrival, I took a few of seconds to pray that the intriguing relationship I had seen form between Edward and Severus would one day bring the mysterious boy and his sister back into our world.

XXXXXXX

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please don't forget to leave me a review- you know how much I love to hear from you all!

In case you were wondering, I had planned to write the debrief that will occur between Severus and Albus in this chapter, but it would have made this update way too long. I think you can imagine the conclusions they will deduce about Edward anyway, but the beginning of the next chapter (which will span over the next 14 years of this story until Edward and Severus meet again) will consist of the aforementioned conversation between Severus and Albus to clarify their conclusions based on what they noticed in this chapter.

I hope there were no inconsistencies during this chapter- it was tricky writing from Albus' perspective and remembering what he did and did not know. I also found this chapter difficult to write because there were so many thoughts/speculations I wanted Albus to have, but due to the reasonably quick exchange between Severus and Edward, it was not plausible that Albus have these thoughts/vocalise his suspicions _while_ they continued to converse. Although I could have written it retrospectively, I thought it would be more interesting and fun that Albus see the memory in present-time so you guys could read how he felt/what he thought in the moment.

In terms of future updates, I plan to write one more chapter for each of the 'brother' stories before taking a significant break from these stories. Before you think I am about to abandon the stories (which I am FAR from doing), the reason for the break is to read OotP, HBP, and DH and plot out how the Cullens will be able to realistically intervene/be a part of the plot lines that occur during those books. I want to do it right, and make sure everything fits in, which means that I need to plan the rest of the story before I continue updating.

The good news is that during the break I will be able to post up at least one 'Trust me' outtake.

But we're jumping a bit ahead. For now, you can expect 'A Life worth Living' to be updated in the next few weeks (the chapter will span over the next 14 years).

Thank you all so much for reading! Please take a second to review and let me know your thoughts!

Your support is so appreciated :)

Take care,

Bee


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